


Only the Worthy

by AzureTiger



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt/Comfort, King Thor (Marvel), M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Sick Steve Rogers, Slow Burn, Thundershield - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:20:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 154,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22216186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzureTiger/pseuds/AzureTiger
Summary: Amidst escalating war times, Thor stumbles upon an escaped HYDRA prisoner with a brand on his back and nothing to live for. Thor takes a liking to the blonde, determined to forge a new friendship as he continues to search for ways to win the impending clash with HYDRA's growing forces.Bearing the HYDRA brand, Steve struggles to find his place in a new world full of strangers. If he can survive the Winter, he might just see the end of this war, and a friendship grow into something more than he ever imagined he could have.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Thor
Comments: 174
Kudos: 163
Collections: Bend Over Rogers





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Well hey there, and welcome to a project I've been musing over for a few months now! As always, I'm open to ideas and feedback at all times. I hang on to all suggestions. There should be artwork on the way, too. If you're a thundershield fan, I post lots of drawings on [my tumblr page.](https://stormyandrescuer.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I expect this story to be a bit bloodier and sexier than some of my other work, but we'll see. I'm not too sure yet. Warning will be given, though :)
> 
> I look forward to your feedback, my life and blood, and hope to hear what you think throughout. It really does keep me going through the stress of school and life, and I'm always glad to hear your thoughts, whatever they are! Thank you to all those who have supported my writing projects thus far, I love you all for enjoying these stories along with me.

Bucky had never run with such desperation. He’d run to Steve’s aid plenty of times, but never like this, never so fearfully as he did now. It was all he could do not trip over himself, somehow managing to dart around underbrush and leap over fallen trees. The guards would have noticed by now that their prisoners were gone. Even with his head start, Bucky knew he couldn’t outrun healthy soldiers on horseback. His strength was already starting to wane. He pushed harder.

Steve bounced on his back, his hair tickling Bucky’s ear. He was deeply unconscious, and there was a good chance Bucky would never see those baby blues again. If he made it to safety, managed to find help, Steve might still die. And if Bucky didn’t make it, couldn’t run fast or far enough...? Well, then it was too late for both of them.

It was probably too late for Bucky, too. His own body was full of poisons that were still doing  damage he refused to think about. His mouth tasted like blood and acid. But he didn’t let go, didn’t stop. Not for anything.

Every whisper through the dense underbrush was a threat, every crack or crunch of a twig a soldier pouncing. Even the chirp of a bird startled him. The fear only made his legs move faster, gave him more power to ignore his own ailments and keep going.

_ At least if we die, it won’t be in their hands. _

That’s what he told himself. Better to die out here as free men than in a cell as prisoners, as property. Better to die out here in peace, where they could enjoy the sun on their faces and the wind in their hair as death  enveloped them and brought them back to the earth. 

Steve coughed on his shoulder, but he didn’t move, didn’t even shiver. Maybe he wouldn’t wake up to see they were free. Maybe Bucky shouldn’t try to wake him, should let him drift away so he didn’t have to suffer.

A river was trickling nearby, and Bucky had to drink. He knew that once he stopped it would be that much harder to get going again, but he  _ had _ to wet his throat, see if he could get Steve to do the same. He slowed, losing all his manufactured grace and stumbling down the pebbled bank. Gasping and shaking, he fell to his knee and slid Steve’s slender frame off his back, carefully laying his friend to the ground. Steve didn’t budge, ghostly white beneath the beginnings of a fevered flush in his sharp cheekbones. But he was still alive, clinging on to life the way he always did, with more stubbornness than anyone had the right to be capable of.

Bucky smiled and wiped his eyes, blinking them clear of tears and sickness. “I’ll care of  ya ,  you blonde  sack of stupid.” It made him feel a little better, to joke like the old days. Days when no matter how dire things had been, he’d still managed to cling to the hope that Steve would live. The smaller man was good at that, fighting back the odds and climbing out still kicking. This though? This seemed like a stretch. Bucky was having a hard time not giving up.

But he didn’t. He stood up and staggered to the river, cupping his hands in the  crystal-clear water and trudging back to Steve’s body, tipping the fluid between his friend’s parted lips as he had many times in the past. “Come on, drink,” he murmured. “Drink it.”

Steve didn’t. He was dead to the world, didn’t even swallow. The water just ran down his throat, a little dribbling across his chin. Bucky brought him more, tried to wipe away some of the fevered heat. He couldn’t catch his breath, and watched as Steve struggled to breathe too.

“Idiot,” Bucky clenched his fists, angry that he hadn’t been able to stop this, to protect the one person he cared about more than anything, anyone. Steve was his world, a pure, bright soul who didn’t deserve to suffer, yet had endured more than anyone he’d ever met. He fought not to be sick as he gently turned Steve onto his stomach and lifted the other man’s shirt. He knew he had to do this, had to give his friend every chance he could.

The brand on Steve’s back looked just as huge and ghastly as when Bucky had burst into the room to rescue his self-sacrificing moron of a friend. Steve’s ribs pressed aggressively against torn and burned skin, covered in new layers of dried blood and fluid. The brand covered most of his back, reaching hungrily down his waist and curling its greedy tendrils toward his shoulders.  _ Maybe it’s better you never wake up. _

What a terrible, terrible thing to think... Bucky swallowed tears of shame, even though he knew it would be far crueler to wish Steve awake to suffer through this horrible wound. It was clearly infected, lily white skin inflamed murderous red. Bucky dribbled water over the wounds, gritting his teeth. He pulled off his own shirt and soaked it in the river, doing his best to dab the burns clean without disturbing them. Steve groaned softly, but he didn’t move, didn’t twitch.

Maybe there were some plants around here. Bucky had learned enough from Mrs. Rogers to know what to look for. He fumbled his way along the bank, hesitant to stray too far from his friend. He found clove and echinacea, ripping them out of the ground and making his way back. A cough lurched him, and he stopped to see it through. The bout finally subsided, and he spat blood onto the pebbles, ignoring the implications and carrying on.

He knelt by the river to crush the plants between two rocks, mixing them into a paste in his palm. He cradled it back to Steve, and spread it across the leaking canvas as delicately as he could.

Back to the road. Bucky carefully pulled Steve’s shirt back down and eased his friend onto his back. Steve’s bony arms dangled over his shoulders, long artist’s fingers stained with dirt and blood instead of charcoal like they should be.  _ This’ll kill you...  _ It was futile, he knew it, running as if he would eventually reach a peaceful place far away from these tortures, a place where they were healthy and happy and recovered. Safe.

The towers of  Asgard were tantalizingly close, the pale glow of white brick visible especially at night. Bucky knew it had to be a dream, because  Asgard had always been spoken about as a faraway sanctuary. Marked on the map, yes, but still an oasis in the veritable desert of the little village he and Steve had grown up in. Wealth was difficult to imagine for people like them, who had only ever lived in poverty, their only exposure to anything in plenty provided by tales. Bucky prayed that really was  Asgard poking over the hills, contesting the moon for brightness against the night sky. If he could get Steve there, they would be safe. How far were they, exactly...? Bucky had no clue. He still wasn’t sure he trusted his eyes. Not while those poisons HYDRA had given him were destroying his system. He could very well be hallucinating those welcoming turrets. Maybe he was hallucinating their freedom, too. 

Steve wouldn’t have given up. Bucky set his jaw and climbed up the bank, finding it increasingly more difficult to walk in a straight line. His vision was blurred and his strength waning, blood flecking his lips with every cough he couldn’t restrain. And if their roles were reversed, Steve would have dragged him through the forest until his final breath, would have bargained with the Grim Reaper to save him. Bucky could do no less.

So he ran. He forced his damaged body to move, ignoring the pain in his ribs and lungs, the burn in his throat, and the haze in his head. Steve deserved every ounce of strength he could offer.  _ It might not be much, but you can have it. _

It had to be some kind of miracle, maybe even divine intervention that he managed to keep going for so long. Bucky lost speed quickly, but he kept his feet moving, placing one in front of the other with endless determination. Steve’s hoarse rasps losing strength gradually in his ear spurred him faster than he should have been capable of moving. Night fell, but they couldn’t stop. There was nothing to eat anyway. Bucky knew that if he gave in now, he might not wake up again. He wouldn’t rest. This was his final act, and he knew it.

Light as his friend was, he was starting to get heavy. Steve’s slight frame was gradually starting to weigh more and more. Bucky strained, adjusting his grip and locking his arms under his best friend’s legs. In the distance, he could hear the sound of hoofbeats and shouting.

No. No  _ no _ . He was barely staggering now, but he forced himself to run again. He could see the dark outline of distant turrets blocking out the stars. Safety was just beyond this forest. He could make it. Bucky tried to deepen his breaths, get more oxygen into his bleeding lungs and fuel his starving, screaming muscles.

The sun began to rise, and Steve was barely breathing on his shoulder, skin dry; his body had stopped trying to cool itself a couple of hours ago. “Hang on, just a bit longer.” Bucky could barely  speak, his throat was so clogged with blood and raw from panting. The sounds of hoofbeats were getting closer and closer, accompanied by angry yelling. They weren’t going to make it. The city was too far away, its tall spires made of white stone glowing tauntingly in the morning sunlight, heaven just out of reach.

He could see it, the edge of the forest. Orange and pink light was pushing through, calling him to its warmth. He city gates were just beyond, a flash of white barely visible through the dense foliage. Desperation gave him a little more strength.

It was too late. His body couldn’t hold him up anymore, legs giving way. Bucky pitched forward, his vision swimming. Clumsily, he reached up to protect Steve from the fall. He landed on his chest with a thud, a weak sigh escaping his lips as the meager breath in his lungs left him. Horses danced around his head, trotting taunting circles. Steve’s weight pressed him into the ground, and it was oddly comforting.  _ You an’ me, like always... _ He smiled, and closed his eyes.

The weight was gone, lifted off him. Bucky rolled with so much ferocity it surprised him, snatching for his friend. Too late. Steve was out of his reach, his vision instead swept across with soft scarlet as a figure settled beside him. Swords were clashing in the distance, people yelling and horses neighing. The person looming over him easily steadied his weak struggling. The sounds of battle eased away and died, and all he could hear was a deep voice calling for him from the heavens.

“Shh, peace. You are safe.”

Steve was safe. Bucky wasn’t sure, but he allowed himself to believe it. He’d made it. They would take care of Steve. Bucky closed his eyes, reassured that even if Steve was too far gone to save, they would see each other again soon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you ready for pain? I hope so.
> 
> Thanks for the feedback, and I look forward to hearing it as we move through the story! Enjoy B)

It was a beautiful morning, one of the most beautiful mornings he’d seen in quite some time. The sky was rich with color as the sun rose and splattered the clouds a fiery pink, blue peeking out between. There was a light breeze, and the air was warm.

Far in the distance hung dark and ominous clouds, creeping steadily toward the brightness, starving for every inch of sky it could consume. Weather aside, there was an air of foreboding on that gentle breeze.

“He’s on his own now,” Bruce quietly announced. “There’s nothing else I can do for him.”

Thor turned from the window. All evidence of the shredded skin across the back of the young man he’d retrieved from the forest was covered in bandages, but it would never cleanse nor dull the image of weeping burns and gouges. Thor’s mind would never, ever forget. He didn’t want to. He always wanted the horrors HYDRA inflicted to be sharp in his mind, the spur that never allowed him to forget his mission, his duty. And this man was escaped from HYDRA, he knew that. Even inflamed and shimmering with pinkish fluid, that mark had been unmistakable. 

_ He could be a spy, _ the King in his brain reasoned. It was imperative to consider every possibility, no matter how minute the chance. Thor didn’t think this man was a spy; even if HYDRA had gone to the effort of making someone look like an escaped prisoner, they would never have driven one so close to death. Thor didn’t need Bruce to tell him that his patient was unlikely to pull through.

“Let me know if he wakes up,” Thor ordered, and Bruce nodded, tugging a blanket up and over the man, who was rested on his stomach, propped on his side and greyer than a person could possibly be whilst still alive. He was barely breathing, face buried in a pillow, a slender hand with long fingers resting near his face. At least he looked peaceful, and not in any pain.  _ Perhaps it would be kinder to let you die. _

But Thor could never have justified that to himself. Inaction in the face of sin was the same as committing the sin itself, therefore he would not stand back and watch this man die where he could save his life. Otherwise, he might as well be a murderer. Then how could he possible condemn HYDRA for their atrocities?

He was reluctant to leave, his heart compelled to stay and watch over his mysterious guest, but he had work to do. Thor forced his feet to move, tearing himself out of the infirmary and down to find Clint.

HYDRA was close by. The man who had carried his branded friend here couldn’t have gone too far in the state he’d been in.  _ How rare, for someone to escape. _

War was coming, and strategy was not his strong suit. Luckily, he had good friends. Clint awaited him in the vaults, arranging the body on a table and pulling off the blankets wrapped around it. Thor shut and locked the door behind him, descending into the secret storage space. They would be safe to discuss matters here.

“He died a noble death,” Clint murmured, stood by the head of the young man. “Fighting for the people he cared about till his last breath. We’ll be lucky if we can go that way.”

“And there is no way to heal him?”

“Bruce did everything he could think of. It was too late,” Clint replied softly. “He’s gone.”

They took a moment of silence over the fallen man, closing their eyes respectfully and hanging their heads. Thor thought to the blonde up in the infirmary, to whom his passed friend had clung so tightly, even on death’s door.

“Have him buried in the royal cemetery, on the hill” Thor ordered, breaking the silence. “He fought until his last against HYDRA, and to protect one he cared for. He deserves no less.”

Clint nodded respectfully. “How’ll we mark it?”

“With a blank stone,” Thor dragged the blankets back around the body. “If his friend wakes up, perhaps we can get his name and have  it carved in.” It wouldn’t be right to make a headstone for a stranger, not while his friend was still alive.

Clint carried the body away, and Thor stood quietly in the vault. The room was a dark, dead kind of peaceful, the shadows of past battles shelved all around him. Trophies from wars he had only heard tales of, and others he had witnessed his father return from. What had been lost to acquire them, he had never asked. The answer, he knew, wouldn’t have justified it to him; he would never be able to equate what was sacrificed to the trinkets his father had brought back, and his father before that.

So Thor hadn’t added anything of his own to the collection. He often ventured down here, taking off his boots and padding around on the cool floor in bare feet. It was quiet, his own little sanctuary where his thoughts were free of the opinions of a court and council and a kingdom full of people. He could simply reflect, look back on the past and contemplate how he could be better than those who had come before him. He could reset his values, clear his head, and remember what it meant to be Worthy.

But there was a war to prepare for, so he couldn’t stay long. Now that they knew HYDRA was close, they could better prepare. Thor left the vault to find his advisors and generals; their people had to be ready.

As much as he despised the idea of interrogating someone so freshly recovered from the jaws of evil, there was a chance the survivor might know something about HYDRA. As much as a clue toward their movements or intentions would make a monumental difference; Thor felt as though he was making wild swipes in the darkness and hoping they hit.

He went to change out of his armor, undoing the steel and leather pressed firmly against his chest and leaving it aside. As usual, this morning’s fight hadn’t left him with a scratch. And if it had, they would be gone by now. There wasn’t a bruise on his torso, only smooth, perfect skin. Thor slipped a shirt over it, selecting a grey color and tugging a brown jacket over top. He left his sword behind and strode off to find his council.

Diplomacy was tiring, more-so than a hard battle. Maybe that was because it was a fatigue he could not sleep away. Thor worked well with spontaneity, and though he was a lot smarter than people often gave him credit for, it was taxing trying to lay out a long-term strategy. As usual, he stared at the map and hid his frustration as he scanned the pieces and attempted to put together hypotheses. Today though, he did have something to add.

He held out his hand and Natasha gave him a black chess piece. “The men who escaped could not have traveled more than a few days,” Thor placed the piece a certain distance from the castle. “Nor could they have moved very quickly. That means there is a base nearby, or a temporary camp. The party they sent to retrieve their captives was large enough that they must have had the men to spare.”

“And they’ll figure out the party they sent is dead,” Nat looked up, arms folded. “They'll send backup. By the size of the first group, and the state of the prisoners, they must have been desperate to make sure they didn't survive.”

Thor nodded in agreement, furthering his conjecture that their newest guest might have some useful information. 

With everything new to offer laid on the table, and new possibilities brainstormed, Thor took his leave.

“You look like you could let off some steam.” Natasha appeared at his side, silent despite her boots and the sword at her hip. She was the only person who could sneak up on him, even with his enhanced hearing. His most skilled and cunning general was lifting an eyebrow, a knowing smile on her lips.

Thor sighed, free to express himself in front of his good friend now that there weren’t so many people watching, banking on his confidence to bolster their own. “I could never turn down the chance to spar with you.”

“Good, I could use it too,” Natasha looped an arm through his and led him off. He was a lot stronger than she was, but he submitted to her guidance willingly. It was much appreciated.

They ended up in the training grounds, in a patch of dirt safely away from the other soldiers practicing there, away from obstacles. Natasha unstrapped the sword from her belt and threw it aside. She didn’t wear much armor, preferring to fight with as little restriction as possible, but she took off that, too; off came her leather breastplate, and steel shoulder and shin guards. 

Thor slipped out of his jacket and dropped it aside, too, squaring off with her. He slid one foot back, readying himself to fight the toughest opponent he had ever dueled. Even with his enhanced physique, she still sometimes won. She made him  _ think, _ forced him to be a better warrior, testing his uncontestable strength with her cunning and speed and adaptability.

Both of them were warriors, and so both of them spoke better with their fists. Nat would feel his frustration through his movements, especially in his mistakes. She could read his eyes in an instant, but exchanging blows painted a more detailed picture. She was giving him an outlet, and asking to be let in. He invited her.

Natasha jumped. She was lithe, much smaller than him but able to arc between his strikes like a cobra. Thor swung a punch, and she bent under it, turning at the hips and kicking him squarely in the hips. He didn’t stagger, but he did fold just a little. She spun and looped her leg over his extended arm, using her whole body to twist it and pull him to the ground by his shoulder. Thor followed through, rolling forward and ripping his arm with him. She hung on as he stood, using the momentum to swing around and wrap her leg around his neck. Just like that, she’s scaled him like a cliff, her body wrapped around his throat, rendering him top-heavy. She took him down a second time, scarlet hair swirling like a wild fire as she twisted at the hips, forcing him to roll his body to keep up with the turn she put on his head.

They fell with a thud, Natasha weaving through his limbs. She got one leg around his, squeezing so he couldn’t get it free. Then she dug her knee into his side, and twisted his arm behind his back. Strength alone wouldn’t get him free from this, not without breaking something. It would heal in no time, but it wasn’t worth it. Besides, she had won.

“You’re distracted today,” she remarked casually, giving his arm a little tug.

Thor grunted. “What makes you say that?”

“Less than a minute,” he could practically hear her smirk. “But don’t worry, I won’t count this. I want to break my record when you’re all there.” She knocked on his head.

“Perhaps my mind is elsewhere,” Thor admitted, struggling for the sake of it, to see if there was any way he could get free. There wasn’t. Natasha tightened her grip. “I submit! I submit. Congratulations.”

Just like that, she rolled off of him, springing to her feet and offering him her hands. He took them, and brushed himself off. “The man you brought back, from HYDRA,” she guessed with a raised eyebrow.

“And the war,” he took his stance, determined not to lose again. At least not so quickly this time... “I’m lost. We have nothing new to work with, Natasha.”

She matched his stance, light on the balls of her feet as always. “Something will come up. Maybe this guy will be the missing link.” She ran for him again, going straight for his feet this time as she dropped and slid on her hip.

Thor jumped over her, twisting to land facing her as she moved under him. He landed neatly, managing his weight like a man half his size and raising his arm to block her punch. It bounced off his forearm, but she was already hooking her foot behind his ankle to take him down, elbowing him in the face to send him all the way to the dirt. She took his wrist and wrapped it against her ribs with her arm. Then she jumped and spun, fighting the strength in his arm with her entire body weight as she twisted and dropped, taking the limb with her. She sprawled across his stomach, his arm locked tightly in another submission hold.

“HYDRA march for us from at least three directions,” Thor grunted, bucking his hips and reaching for her collar with his free hand. “We cannot afford to wait for him to wake up.”

Natasha wove her leg through his, yanking his knee the wrong way. “Then send out a scouting party.”

“Can’t,” Thor winced, wrapping his fingers around her collar and pulling her backward. His other arm came free from her grip, and he disentangled her from his limbs. He stood, taking her with him and holding her like a cat by the scruff. “We can’t risk it. We don’t know how close they are. If we send out men, we could be attacked and overwhelmed.”

“Then send a scout,” Natasha advised, flinging herself up and wrapping her body around his arm before he could drop her. He whipped his arm sideways, and she came free before she could get a good grip. She rolled, springing back toward him and wrapped her arms around his waist, jamming her head into his stomach before he could flex.

It knocked him breathless, and he staggered back under her perfectly-aimed blow. Ordinarily, it would take a lot more to take him down like that, but she was too good, and he  _ was _ distracted. Anxious. Determined not to lose again, he reached for her and grabbed her by the back of her leather shirt, throwing her off him so he could get up. Natasha rolled again with nothing but a soft grunt, coming to her feet and striking out with her foot.

Thor blocked. He knew she was right, that he should send a scout to get more information, but he was worried: these HYDRA bases, or camps, or whatever they were, could be huge. HYDRA was known for dabbling in dark magic, and the last thing he wanted was for one of his men to be killed or worse because the enemy had somehow seen them coming. He knew he was being paranoid, selfish even. Sacrifice had to be made to win wars, but he couldn’t bear the loss of any of his men.

Worst of all, he knew Natasha wanted to go. She would be the best person to send, too, with her skills of espionage and combat. If anyone could uncover the secrets of HYDRA and ultimately win the war, it would be her.

She had beat him again, taking full advantage of his distracted mind and pinning him in another intricate arm-bar on his belly. “Let off enough steam?”

“I think so,” Thor smiled gratefully as she let him up, wearing a grin of her own.

“You should send a scout,” she advised again, bending down to pick up her sword and armor. “I’ll go. Tomorrow morning. I’ll find the base in the West, and be back in a couple of days max.”

Thor slung his jacket over his shoulder, falling into step beside her as they walked back to the castle. They knew for certain about the base to their West; not how large it was, but certainly that it was there. It would be good to add more information to their map, flesh it out, decide how tightly they were being flanked. Thor was already entertaining the possibility that he might have to evacuate his kingdom, if HYDRA were amassing forces large enough for resistance to be foolish. But, if there was no way to slip through safely and send his people to safer lands, then they would have to stand their ground and fight as well as they could. He had already sent out a small party in search of help from nearby nations. It had been months, and still no word. They were on their own.

“Alright,” he agreed quietly, but firmed his resolve. “You’ll take two others with you. Just in case.”

“I work better alone,” she replied calmly.

He wouldn’t let her win on this. “Please,” he urged. “For my piece of mind. That’s an order.” He didn’t order her as her king very often, but when he  did he usually won.

“Okay,” she agreed. “But I pick the two.”

He nodded. Of course. That was fine by him.

She left him be, walking back toward the planning room. Thor diverted to the infirmary, too curious to avoid it much longer. It had been a handful of hours since he’d last been by – had the man survived? Was he still strung by a frayed thread to the living world, or would they be lowering a second body into the ground with the first? And if not today, then tomorrow?

The man was still alive, buried under blankets and a wet cloth wrapped around his neck. He was clean enough, forelock limp with sweat and water, his skin shining porcelain in the gentle glow of daylight. Thor walked quietly to the bed, measuring his footfalls even though he knew the blonde was too far gone from the world to be woken just yet.

Bruce appeared at his side. “No change,” he sighed. “He could live another day, a week. No way to know. He’s teetering on the edge.”

“He’s strong to have survived this long,” Thor noted with admiration.  _ Someone fought very hard for you, even though it must have seemed futile.  _ This man was a man worth dying for.

Bruce nodded. “Let’s hope he’s strong enough to shake this off. But Thor...” the doctor looked up sadly, “even if he does it might not take much later down the road.”

The king nodded his head slowly, understandingly. “Am I doing the right thing...? He’ll never be the same. A wound like that will never heal.” He could see the loops of bandage over the blonde’s bony shoulders – that brand covered almost all of his back. Not even just a burn, a  _ brand _ , a label of ownership. That would likely be damaging in other ways.  _ Let’s hope you have the spirit for it. _

“In what? Trying to help?” the doctor tried.

“What if he despises me?” Thor stared at the shallow rise and fall of the blankets. “For what we’ve done to him, forcing him to live in a world he might not want to be part of anymore.”

“I think you did the right thing,” Bruce put in his two cents, which was worth a lot more than that. “You’ve always done what you think is right. I guess you just have to ask yourself who you did it for, and why.”

Thor thought about that on his way back to his room. He’d done it for the man buried under a blank headstone, because that man had fought as hard as he could, until his body couldn’t carry him any further. It was only right to take up that torch. Thor had done it for the blonde, too, because everybody deserved to be fought for. Everyone deserved a second chance. Everyone deserved to have allies, hope, and support. That was what  Asgard stood for, giving  everything it could to its people, and beyond. Thor’s father had shut the gates to outsiders, believing they were better off caring for their own, but Thor had quickly abolished that idea and pushed the gates wide open again as soon as he’d taken the throne.  Asgard was a place of prosperity, and it had plenty of room for newcomers. Their rescued blonde included.  _ The best I can do is offer you a place here, a chance at a new life. _

He just hoped that new life wouldn’t soon be destroyed by HYDRA once more. Thor set his jaw, determined not to let the blonde man fall back into the claws that had pierced him.  _ We will defeat them, for you and all those who’ve fought bravely against them. _

\--

As he ate dinner in his room, the storm finally clawing its fingers into the blue, blue sky and ripping away puffy white clouds, his thoughts drifted back to the man. Perhaps it was selfish to be so curious, to will his guest awake simply so he could meet this character whose life had been fought so hard for. Thor leaned out the window, enjoying the cold wind on his face. It combed his hair like Mother used to, crackled and roared as Father had, and consumed the sky with all the charisma of his brother.

He missed them. Thor watched as the sky grew darker and darker, cold rain stinging his skin. He walked to the corner and lifted his mandola out of  its velveted case. It had been Loki’s. Mother used to teach his brother how to play, while Thor had never been much interested in learning for himself. He’d had other things to keep himself busy, like learning to fight.

Father hadn’t thought much of the practice of music. Not as highly as he regarded skill in combat, at least. Mother had always done her best to find niches for Loki to thrive. Thor sighed and sat on the edge of his bed, folding one leg under himself and nestling the instrument in his lap. Loki had been skilled at fighting in his own way, excelling at stealthy approaches and close-range techniques with shorter blades. It hadn’t been flashy enough for his father, though, despite the younger brother being easily as good in a fight as Thor. Just, in a different sort of fight.

Thor himself had never learned music, hadn’t had much interest in it until the death of his family. Loki’s mandola had sat gathering dust for months until he had finally decided that if he couldn’t bear to get rid of it, then he should at least learn to play. It had soon become a soothing ritual, learning to make pleasant music on his own. It had taught him to be delicate, too, to gently brush his fingers over the strings. He could have hired someone to teach him, he supposed, but it was much more enjoyable just to sit alone and see what he could come up with.

He remembered a few of his mother’s lessons, when he’d been curious enough to linger around the doorway. Both his mother and brother had played for him on occasion, once when he’d returned from battle with a few extra scars, and others when he’d had trouble sleeping. Thor vaguely recalled a few tunes, and tried to replicate the notes. The rhythm was easy. He could keep a good rhythm without trouble. Picking the right notes was tougher, though. What he came up with wasn’t quite his mother’s lullaby, nor his brother’s gentle serenade, but it sounded good all the same. Peaceful.

With a settled mind, Thor delicately put the instrument away and crawled into bed. He fell asleep remembering melodies he would never hear played again.

In the morning he watched Natasha, Clint, and another soldier depart the castle. He bid them farewell, and turned away with a worried heart, begging for their safe return. He couldn’t do this without them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's fascinating to hear your thoughts, and to see what you guys pick up on, the details that pop out! Thanks for your comments, it's a lot of fun to see what your guys are making of this.
> 
> I promise I will have drawings for this eventually. University allowing.

Bucky was sprawled in his arms, asleep. He wasn’t breathing right, hadn’t been for days. HYDRA had been taking him, feeding him all sorts of strange substances. Poisons, probably. Steve didn’t know what they were looking for. He tightened his grip protectively around his sleeping friend, bound wrists pressed tightly into his chest, Bucky’s head on his shoulder. The larger man was practically in his lap. Steve wished he were bigger so he could provide a better pillow, but his friend didn’t seem to mind at all.

_ How’re we  _ _ gonna _ _ get out of this...  _ Steve looked around the cell. With everyone else crammed in this tight, drafty space would be just as miserable, if not more-so. Many were beaten, bleeding, suffering their own poisonings. They’d been here over a week now, and Steve knew that he wouldn’t be so lucky for long; so far, they hadn’t done much to him.

But even if he did escape whatever lay beyond this prison, torture or labor or something unimaginable, Steve knew he wouldn’t last long in this cell. The air was too damp and cold. Pneumonia would seize his susceptible lungs eventually, and that would surely kill him. He wasn’t worth medicine, so he knew HYDRA would just leave him to die here. Even if he did get sick and survive, he would just get sick again, and again, and again, each time lowering his chances of surviving.  _ It would be easier just to die now, and get it over with. _

No, he would hang on and fight, for Bucky, for the other people here, for himself. He wouldn’t leave his friend alone. All they had was each other. Steve fell asleep, and woke up a second later.

His back hurt, and he wasn’t sure why. HYDRA hadn’t taken him from the cell yet (which he knew was to come, how did he know....?). Ah, he must be stiff from sleeping in an odd position, holding up Bucky’s weight. Steve shifted, and the second his cheek rubbed against blankets, his true orientation came crashing back. He wasn’t in a cell at all, wrapped in warm blankets instead of pressed against cold rock. He was on his belly, tipped sideways and propped against a wall of pillows. If that lock of hair weren’t dangling in his eyes, he’d be able to see a bit of the room, too.

_ Where am I...  _ Steve moved his head, trying to flick his forelock out of his face. He could see the blurry outline of his hand nearby, and struggled to move it. He was terribly weak, and warm with fever. His neck was damp, a cool cloth draped over it.  _ Got sick again.  _ It was always disorienting to wake up after being dreadfully ill. This was no different.  _ Why  _ _ m’I _ _ on my stomach... _ He did his best to get his bearings as he brushed his hair to the side. Ma would be nearby, and Bucky. One of them would be at his side to help.

Neither of them  were . His bedside was empty. Steve blinked and squinted, trying to get his wonky eyes to cooperate. Everything was blurrier than normal. It was no use. His vision was smudged and rippling, but even then he could tell this was not his home.

This was somewhere much bigger. Steve shifted urgently, trying to push his arm underneath his body to roll himself onto his back and get a better vantage. It was no use: he had no strength, and the motion tugged on his back. The pain surprised him. It tore across his shoulders, eliciting a hoarse yelp from his dry lips. Steve was no stranger to pain, but this was all-consuming. He went limp, whimpering into the pillows that were softer than anything he had ever felt.

A shadow fell over him. Steve opened his squeezed eyes and blinked away tears, staring up at the person looming over him. 

“You’re awake.” There was surprise in that kind, gentle voice. “Here, let me help you.”

No, he didn’t need help. He was fine. Steve reached up to bat away the unfamiliar hands coming for him, but he couldn’t lift his arm at the shoulder without tugging on damaged skin. The muscles seized and he locked in place, trembling and wincing. He had no choice but to allow the pair of soft hands to help him roll over and sit up. Despite the cushioning he was gently lowered against, the pressure stung his back. He couldn’t help but show his pain on his face.

“Water.” A kind-faced man nudged glasses up his nose with a finger and held out a cup of clean, sparling water. Steve reached for it, but was stopped short by his hurting back. “That’s alright,” the man helped him, curling his fingers around the cup and guiding it to his lips. The water was cool and refreshing, sweet and more delicious than any water he’d ever drank. Maybe the most delicious thing he’d ever drank, ever. He sipped as quickly as he was allowed, until it was gone. He wanted more.

The blankets were pulled up to his chest, thick and luxurious, not threadbare and scratchy like he was used to. These were so  soft; Steve had no idea what they could possibly be made of. Sat up, he could see the room a bit better. It was indeed large, stocked with other beds, shelves covered in books and jars pressed against the walls. There was a desk in the corner, and a door slightly ajar leading to what looked like someone’s quarters. The man at his side, his probably.

Bright light filtered through the window to his left, and he peered out. Soft white clouds splashed against a pale blue sky. There were no bars to block his view. He wasn’t bound or restrained, though there was a tightness around his torso. Steve looked down. The small part of his chest he could see was wrapped. By the torsion on his body, he could feel they covered his whole torso. The deep ache stretched across the entirety of his back, and he remembered.

He had to get out of here. Steve struggled with the blankets, wrapping his fingers around them and attempting to throw them off as he tried to sit. His body was too weak to get very far, but the man stopped him anyway, urgently stilling him. “You’re safe,” he reassured. “Just rest.”

“Where is this?” Steve croaked. He didn’t recognize this place at all. He squinted at the tapestries hanging above him, but he couldn’t pin the crest... All he knew was that last he remembered, he’d been HYDRA’s prisoner.

“Asgard,” the man calmly explained. “You’ve been asleep for almost a week.”

_ A week.  _ Steve licked suddenly dry lips, panting from the effort of his movements.  _ Asgard _ _.  _ Somehow, he’d made it to the white city. He couldn’t bear to feel safe, though, because he remembered:  _ Bucky. Bucky got me free. He must have carried me here.  _ But where was Bucky?

“You need to rest,” the man insisted. “I’ll get you something to eat, but you need to lie still. You’re very badly injured. The infection still needs to clear up.”

Steve squeezed the blankets in a tight fist, wishing he could feel lucky to be alive. He didn’t. Dread clawed at his stomach. The man wasn’t looking him in the eyes, darting about nervously, busying himself with anything he could. Steve watched, growing increasingly anxious. Overwhelmed with thoughts and fragments of memory, Steve resigned to going limp and tried to push away the pain.

The man returned to his side with a bowl of soup and some more water, sitting down in a chair and offering out a spoon. “My name’s Bruce,” he introduced himself with a smile. “I’m the court doctor. Well, actually I’m more of  a herbalist...”

Steve swallowed the soup. Flavors he’d never tasted before spread across his tongue. It was delicious, the most flavorful thing he’d ever eaten. He swallowed, a little more at ease now that his stomach had something to work on. “Steve,” he rasped.

“Welcome to  Asgard ,” Bruce offered another spoonful. This time, there were vegetables and meat in that mouthful. Tender and juicy meat instead of tough like he was used to. “The king brought you here. I’ll get him when you’re finished, if you feel up to it. He wants to speak with you as soon as possible.”

Did he? Steve chewed and swallowed, enamored with his meal. He just nodded quietly, having nothing else to add.

“You don’t have to,” Bruce offered gently. “You’re more than entitled to rest. He can wait.”

The very idea of making a king wait for him felt... wrong. Impossible. Nobody would wait for him, not royalty. What a ridiculous notion. Steve was nobody, just a farm boy from someplace inconsequential. “ S’fine ,” he murmured.  _ What would a king want from me... _

“Eat first,” the doctor reasoned, not slowing his offerings of soup. Steve didn’t slow his consumption of it either. He was hungrier than he’d ever felt. Even when food had been scarce in their little village, he’d never had much of an appetite. Right now though, he felt like he’d been starving for a week, which in truth he probably had been. Longer, even. HYDRA hadn’t fed them very well.

With his stomach settled and the bowl empty, Steve licked his lips and savored the flavor. Bruce got up and walked to his work bench, returning with a clay cup of hot water mixture.

“For the infection,” the doctor offered it, and Steve drank. The flavor wasn’t too bad.

Steve murmured a thank-you. He wondered what the medicine was made of, and how much it would cost to buy or grow. His mother had grown as many herbs as she could for him, to minimize cost of buying from vendors who came through. The weather hadn’t always allowed for it, though. Sometimes the ground was too cold, and the sun too absent. He missed his mother. She was long dead, though, her body still laid where she’d fallen. Unless of course the village had been burned down, as they often were after a HYDRA raid. Maybe she’d been cremated. Steve liked that thought, that his mother’s ashes were drifting in the wind, carefree.

“Are you alright?” the doctor clasped his wrist with moderated concern. “Are you in pain?”

Steve schooled his expression and rendered himself stoic. He shook his head: no, he was alright. The pain was bad, worse than he’d ever felt, but not beyond what he could handle. If he succumbed to it, HYDRA would have defeated him. This was all he could do to defy them right now.

Bruce clearly didn’t believe him, but stepped back with a respectful nod. “Get some rest,” he pleaded. “You’re safe and welcome here. You can have anything you need. Just ask.”

Anything...? The only thing Steve wanted was his mother, and Bucky. Bucky wasn’t here for some reason. “My friend...” he licked his lips. “Where is he?” Bucky had carried him. That was the only way he could have made it so far. He hadn’t walked on his own.

Bruce looked away, reaching up to take off his glasses nervously. He licked his lips and looked back up, sorrow and apology in his eyes and his tight lips. “He’s gone. I’m sorry. We brought his body back with yours, Steve, we tried everything we could to save him. He was too far gone. I’m so sorry.”

No, that couldn’t be right.

It couldn’t be.

Bucky had carried him here.

Bucky had been well.  _ Steve _ should have died. Yet here he was, breathing.

It couldn’t be true.

The cold vice of indifference squeezed Steve’s chest. It felt an awful lot like dread, but surely if he were dreading this news, it would have to be true. But there was no possibility that it could be. Bucky would walk  round the corner any second, would berate him for being stupid and nearly dying again. Poor Bucky; his spirit had really been put through the ringer, with Steve’s reoccurring illnesses. Bucky could cuff him, and Steve would deserve it. He could feel the blow now, enough to ruffle his hair but not enough to hurt. Bucky had always treated him as his equal, gentle but never coddling.

Without Bucky, what did he have? Steven Rogers wasn’t worth much. He couldn’t work, not reliably at least. Not with all the time off he needed. He wasn’t very strong, didn’t have good stamina. And no-one would want his hand. But with Bucky, they’d always stood side-by-side. No-one other than him and his ma had ever seen him as valuable. Without them...

Steve swallowed roughly, vaguely aware of Bruce’s hand on his wrist again, speaking to him in a sympathetic voice. He tried to breathe, but he couldn’t, not with this vacuum pushing all the air from his lungs. If Bucky really was dead... 

Bucky had been dying. He knew that. He knew HYDRA would have killed him eventually. With those poisons they’d been feeding him, he wouldn’t have lasted much longer. He’d known it for a long time. Perhaps it was better this way, that his best friend had died in the sun a free man, rather than wasting away in a dark cell. But it still hurt, especially since Bucky had given everything so that Steve could live. What had Steve given? 

Steve shut his eyes and tried to catch his breath, to come back to himself and calm down. He swallowed his tears, not letting a single one escape. It wouldn’t help anyone, and he didn’t want to talk to a near stranger.  So he got himself under control, chanted in his head meaningless words of solace –  _ Bucky died for you, gave his life for you, the least you can do is live –  _ and gathered his wits. He composed himself and opened his eyes, meeting Bruce’s compassionate stare unwaveringly. “I’m alright,” he whispered. “Thank you. I think I should get some rest now.”

“Of course,” the doctor agreed. “Of course.”

Steve shut his eyes, and blocked out the world.

\--

At least in the world of nightmares, Bucky was alive. He was there in their little cell, their bodies wrapped up together because it was all they could do to stay hopeful in this awful place.

Steve was lucky not have gotten sick yet.  So he did everything he could and held Bucky close, determined provide all the support he could to his poisoned friend and praying HYDRA never came for either of them again. Steve knew HYDRA would have little use for him, given how weak he was. Maybe they would test their poisons on him, too. Or maybe they would forget about him, and he could live the rest of his days in this cell, always available to comfort Bucky until the day the poison finally won. That would be alright with him.

Of course, if they could escape somehow, that would be preferable. Steve kept an eye on the guard rotations, memorized them just like he had done in real life. This time though, he had the niggling sensation that something bad was going to happen. Something was coming, he knew it. His back ached with anticipation. 

They did come, and they took him. They chained him kneeling on the cold floor, his arms spread to either side of him. It was Bucky who pulled the hot poker out of the fire and approached him with it, a dark promising scowl on his handsome features. Steve screamed as his back was set alight.

\--

Had he screamed like that? Steve thought back, but he couldn’t remember as he slowly woke up. His mind was too foggy from sleep.

Bruce interrupted his train of thought, suddenly at his bedside. “Good morning,” the kind doctor smiled, sitting and resting a tray in his lap. “How are you feeling?”

_ Alive. Lost.  _ “Okay,” Steve shrugged minutely, careful not to disturb his back.

Again, he wasn’t pried for the truth. “You slept through the night,” Bruce explained casually. “You’re doing a lot better. Got some color back.”

Steve nodded mutely and took the water given to him. His hand shook, but his grip was reliable enough that he could feed himself. He sipped, noting the fading bruises around his wrists, where the chains had held him as he jerked uncontrollably in an attempt to escape the red-hot steel pushing into his skin. Purposefully, he pushed away the thought. 

“The king is hoping to speak to you today,” Bruce set a bowl of oatmeal in his lap. It was decorated with fruit Steve had never seen before. It looked really good. “He’s been chomping at the bit to see you.”

Right, the king of  Asgard had rescued him. Steve wasn’t sure how he felt about that, or even how he  _ should _ feel. Grateful, he supposed, but he wasn’t sure he could find it inside himself to feel that way. He missed Bucky. He missed his ma. If the king had never rescued him, he would be with them.

“We can wait until you’re feeling better,” Bruce assured again, watching him eat but trying to hide how intently he was watching. He stood up. “We’ll wait.”

Steve didn’t answer, eating his breakfast. What could the king possibly want to ask him? Maybe he was coming to ask for payment of some sort. Steve didn’t have any money, so it would have to be favors or labor. He could wash dishes, he supposed. Clean, probably. Castles were big. Surely there was lots that needed cleaning.

And when his debts were paid, where would he go? He had no home to go back to, and nothing to his name.  _ Maybe the king would let me join his army. HYDRA isn’t defeated yet.  _ That would satisfy him, give him purpose. He knew with his health as vulnerable as it was that he would never truly come back from a blow like this.  Therefore he might as well throw himself into anything he wanted, use whatever his body had left for something good. He was incredibly lucky –  _ Well cared-for, Bucky gave me this chance –  _ but so many weren’t. There were countless more held in the camp he’d escaped from, and who-knew how many more camps scattered across the land.

Yes, he would do that.

With a belly full of breakfast, Steve sat so the doctor could treat his back. Lying still was bearable, but moving almost wasn’t. He crawled out of bed with Bruce’s help and sat heavily on the stool provided. While the doctor unwound his back and exposed it to stinging air, Steve stared at his feet. His legs were clothed in soft blue fabric, gentle on his skin, and probably worth more than any clothes he’d ever owned put together. 

He’d never been to a castle before. Steve distracted himself with what he could see from slightly hunched over while Bruce did his best to be gentle with his brutalized skin. The sting of salves made his eyes water, but  luckily he was faced away from the herbalist. He couldn’t help small whines of pain though as plant mixtures soaked through open wounds and set his entire back aflame. Bruce apologized quietly, but didn’t slow. Steve assured him it was fine in a hoarse voice, and continued admantly inspecting his surroundings.

Those tapestries on the walls were beautifully woven. Steve knew that crest from drawings in books; stars on a shield, a lightning bolt through it. Most of the stories he’d heard about this great kingdom had been from drunks on the street, or verbose travelers hoping to coerce potential buyers closer, reel them toward the goods and make a sale. Surely some of it had to be true, though.  Asgard was known for its white stone structures, which bounced sunlight and lit the whole city in a warm glow. It was also a place of mighty warriors, and an even mightier king who had fought armies on his own. Steve wondered how old that tale was, and indeed which king he was going to meet.

He didn’t fancy meeting any kings, really. Not right now, while his body ached alongside his heart. He had more important things to tend to than the whims of royalty. He had to pay his respects to Bucky, offer up his final words. Steve wondered if the body had been brought back, not that he particularly wanted to see it, even if it would remove all chance of this being some big misunderstanding.

Bruce was wrapping his back, hiding the atrocities under generous layers of soft bandage. Having his wounds covered felt safer, protecting the openings themselves, as well as the truth of what had been done. It probably looked how he felt, raw and leaking.

“Here,” Bruce offered him a loose white shirt and helped him put it on. That felt better too, hiding more of the evidence. And it fit. “Back to bed,” the herbalist reached for him with the intention of helping. Steve was about to accept it, knowing he was too hurt to move properly on his own. They were interrupted, a soldier bursting into the room.

“Doctor, the scouting party has returned,” the man heaved breathlessly, eyes wide with urgency. “Please. They need you.”

Bruce straightened and looked down, opening his mouth. Steve waved him off, nodding: he could get into bed by himself. The doctor sighed gratefully and turned to race after the soldier.

Steve didn’t go to bed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always for your wonderful comments! You spoil me.

A few days, and no progress was made. With no new evidence, Thor was left to pace and ponder. Afraid that he would drift, and insatiably restless, he took to the training grounds to work himself into a sweat, before the rest of the kingdom was awake. 

It took a lot to steal his breath away. There were rumors that he could match pace with a galloping horse, but those weren’t true; he could outpace it, easily. Not for a long time, but he could do it. He could fight for days without rest, could lift massive weights, could punch through rock. But here he was, stuck pacing uselessly. 

His hunger for battle had eased back as he’d grown older, but it still lingered under the surface. Thor knew that if he gave into it, he would have to fight even harder to push it back. It was a sickening thought, how much he longed for a fight. War was devastating, and it was a selfish thing to crave. If Thor could fight this war on his own in a vacuum, he would. 

But then, he would certainly lose. He needed his friends, his advisors, his soldiers to help him secure victory. 

City life spun on. People knew that evil forces were on the rise, but he hadn’t told them everything. Thor returned to his chambers and leaned on his window, watching the sun rise and the streets wake up. These days he didn’t sleep much. He didn’t need it. 

Normal wake-up time for everyone else arrived, so Thor went to find breakfast. He had soldiers to train today. Usually Natasha and Clint took care of that, but they were still out, so it was down to him. He enjoyed the task, actually, and it was good for morale. First stop though, the infirmary. 

Bruce was up early as usual, mixing together a medicine potent enough that Thor could smell it from the door. He scrunched his nose and walked in, walking to the bed in the far corner near the window, and taking a seat by it. The blonde man was still unconscious, but some color was rising in his cheeks, pushing away the pallor and flooding in under the fevered flush. He was breathing rhythmically under the blankets still piled on top of him, still rested on his stomach and propped to the side to take pressure off his back. 

“Looks like he’ll pull through,” Bruce explained, coming over with medicines. He gave Thor a reassuring smile. “I think he’ll wake up soon.” 

That was good news. Thor smiled back. He watched Bruce gently roll the blonde onto his back to get him to drink, and reached out to help. 

“Here, hold him,” Bruce instructed, prying the bandages loose. Thor obeyed, delicately holding the blonde sitting so the doctor could do his work. 

The medicine was helping; those blistered tears didn’t look so inflamed when they were revealed. There was a lot of healing yet to do, but at least it _was_ healing. Unable to tear his eyes away from the tentacled, skull-faced shape of HYDRA’s insignia, Thor watched Bruce work. He drew the blonde’s head against his shoulder, keeping his grip as light as possible while thanking the heavens that this man was still unconscious. To bear this process would be excruciating. In confirmation, the blonde moaned softly as Bruce cleaned away blood and fluid as delicately as possible, pressing his potions across the fragile skin. 

The scariest thing about this? Neither of them had heard of such a thing, had ever seen a man bearing a brand like this before. How many more men were trapped in HYDRA bases, being marked in such a way? Many more, perhaps, as there could have been many more men to have suffered like this blonde and died as a result. 

Mother would have said this must be destiny, and Thor might have agreed with her back then. The ways of the universe were mysterious, drawing people together at random, then pulling them apart again for its own amusement. Maybe there was a plan to it all, but Thor wasn’t sure anymore. All he knew was that he had to make the best of it, and that was all he could do. The universe had given him a gift, and it had given this man another chance at life. A better life, Thor hoped. _I’ll give you the best life I possibly can._ It was a brash thought, to think he could replace lost loved ones with a padded lifestyle, but there was no replacing the man who had died to get the blonde here. Who-knew how many others had fallen before. But Thor was determined, before even seeing this man’s eyes, that he was going to do everything he could to help. 

Helping meant destroying HYDRA. Thor patiently helped Bruce hide the wounds under bandages before taking off to handle his kingly duties, newly invigorated. He put his jacket on over his shirt, strapped his sword to his waist, and went to train his soldiers. 

\-- 

Another couple of days passed, and his anxiety was climbing by the hour. It was impossible to concentrate, knowing his friends were out there somewhere. They’d been gone longer than expected. It was a huge relief when a soldier intercepted him in the hallways and summoned him to the castle gates. 

“The scouting party has returned,” the man relayed, breathless, and took off running. Thor followed, easily keeping pace but overtaking once he spotted his friends clip-clopping over the cobblestones toward the front steps. Thor rushed between the pillars and down the stairs, passing the men hurrying to take the horses away. 

Only two horses had returned, one tied to the other and a wrapped sheet bound to the saddle. Natasha rode on the leading horse, Clint behind her, leaning against her back. Her face was cut and bruised, her armor smeared with blood. She dismounted, and he was there to help her, lowering her to her feet with gentle hands. She sagged wearily, but turned to help steady Clint as the king got him down from the saddle, too. He was bleeding and pale, unable to stand up on his own, but alive. 

“I’d bow, but I don’t think I’d be able to get up,” Clint wheezed, his arm tightly wrapped around his side. 

“What happened?” Thor demanded, bearing the weight of his injured friend. 

“Their base is bigger than we thought,” Natasha took Clint’s other side, expression grim. She glanced back as the horses were led away, eyes lingering on the body. “We were intercepted by a scouting party on the way back. We killed all of them.” Her voice took a dark turn. “Clint was shot.” 

“In the part of my liver I don’t need,” the archer noted, putting on a brave face despite how badly needed to lean on his friends to stay standing and moving forward. 

“Someone get Bruce,” Natasha ordered, sending off a soldier to fetch the doctor. “This wasn’t for nothing, at least. We did come back with information.” 

But nothing was free. An icky feeling churned in his stomach for the price they’d paid for whatever information they’d collected. It was familiar, and something he hoped never went away. “You fought bravely,” he commended, knowing even though he hadn’t been there. He wished he had been, because his two best soldiers worked incredibly well together and were a sight to watch. He might have been able to prevent death and injury, too. 

Clint stumbled in his grasp, and the king abandoned trying to preserve the archer’s dignity, opting to scoop him off the floor instead. They were inside now, and the hallways were relatively empty. It was faster going this way, at least. “Hate it when you do that,” Clint grumbled wearily, but his eyelids were already sliding shut now that he didn’t have to work. Some of the pain lines smoothed from his features. 

“Perhaps be more careful next time,” Thor chastised good-naturedly, though he knew the archer was as skilled as they came, and whatever had led to his injury must have been considerable. But he knew it would ease the tension to joke a little. 

Clint smiled, but didn’t say anything. Natasha jogged along beside them to keep pace with her shorter legs, concerned but focused. She slipped ahead and nudged open the archer’s bedroom door, kicking clothes scattered on the floor out of the way and making her way to the bed. Bruce was already there, folding back the blankets to the foot and draping a clean sheet across. Natasha went to shut the door, then appeared in a flash as Clint’s side as he was lowered onto the mattress, taking his hand in both of hers. Her grip was tender, but her eyes were brooding with regret and murder alike. 

She spoke in a quiet but unwavering voice. “They’re gathering all able-bodied men from any settlement they come across,” Natasha explained gravely. “The party that intercepted us was transporting prisoners to their base. They had kids, Thor. We led them back to the city. That’s why we took so long. I promised them safety and anything they needed. Some soldiers are already taking care of them, making sure they have someplace to stay.” 

“Good,” Thor agreed, sitting opposite her and helping Bruce strip the archer from the waist up. Then he took Clint’s other hand, squeezing it gently. “They can have anything they need.” 

Natasha nodded. “Imagine how many prisoners they have in that base...” 

“Too many,” Thor nodded. “And in their other bases.” 

“We don’t have enough man-power to take them down,” Natasha shook her head. “One at a time, yes, but that leaves Asgard unprotected, and if they get word we’re out of town and attack...” 

It would be a massacre. The civilians would pay the price. Thor licked his lips, watching the bloody business of Bruce repairing the thankfully-minor internal damage in Clint’s side. It would heal, with rest. That was a relief. 

“This one’s a bleeder,” the doctor murmured, and Natasha reached out to help, applying pressure so he could prepare a needle and thread. Clint groaned under her hands, squeezing Thor hand tightly. That was fine, he could squeeze as tight as he liked. Thor’s hands were the best for squeezing. It didn’t hurt. 

“Your aim is spot-on, but you can’t dodge for shit,” Natasha teased. “Sure you weren’t holding your bow the wrong way round?” 

“That’s- ah- mean, Tash, he was fast,” Clint whined. “Not my fault. He was on my deaf side.” 

“Right,” she smiled. “But you can see with both eyes.” She pulled back her hands tentatively, wiping up rivulets of blood for Bruce so he could get a good view of the wound. It wasn’t too big, and clean enough. It would heal up nicely. The doctor cleaned it with alcohol, and started to stitch it shut. 

“Even if you can’t dodge, you’re still damn lucky,” Bruce noted, pulling the thread and drawing both edges of skin together. “A few days’ rest and you’ll be good as new. And by rest I mean _sleep,_ Barton. In _bed._ ” 

“Yeah yeah,” the archer waved a hand, looking a bit grey and on the verge of passing out, but hanging on. He’d be fine. 

They really had been lucky. Thor hoped that if destiny was real, that it was on their side. He needed his friends. “By order of the king, you’ll stay in this bed,” Thor teased, “or so help me, I can have you executed.” 

“Like to see you try,” Clint huffed. 

“You wouldn’t stand a chance against me,” Thor boasted. “Do not test your luck.” 

“I bet I could... could beat you,” the archer grinned cheekily, his eyes heavy with blood loss and fatigue and pain. 

“Careful, Your Highness,” Natasha joined in. “You know full well that I can take you down. I can pass my secrets onto my successor.” 

“Only on my distracted days,” Thor smiled. 

“Speaking of, how is your new friend?” Natasha raised an eyebrow. 

“Alive,” the king shrugged, glancing at Bruce. “He’s getting better.” 

“He woke up yesterday morning,” Bruce confirmed. “And fell right back to sleep. But he should pull through. Actually, he was awake when I left. I was about to come and get you.” 

“Sure he’s not a HYDRA spy?” Clint asked. 

“You didn’t see the look in his eyes,” Bruce shook his head. “I’m not a genius at reading people, but he’s _not_ a spy.” 

“I’ll talk to him,” Natasha suggested. If anyone could determine the true intentions of the blonde, it would be her. 

Thor nodded in agreement. “Perhaps when he’s feeling better. The man’s suffered enough without your death stare to add to it.” 

“I can be nice if I want,” Natasha scoffed. 

“Witch,” Clint cackled drunkenly beneath her. “Yer’scary.” 

“That’s no way to speak to a lady,” she chided. “You’re lucky you’re a patient, Barton, or you’d be in big trouble.” 

“All done,” Bruce tied his thread and cut it with a knife. “Sit him up.” He folded up a piece of cloth and smeared it with something that looked a bit like pesto, pushing it into the wound as the other two helped the archer sit. 

With his wound wrapped, Clint fell asleep in seconds, dull snores floating peacefully through the room. Natasha sat at his side, wearily tugging at the clasps on her armor, weapons, and jacket. “I’ll stay with him,” he announced, shooing the other two for the door. “Go.” 

“Are you certain?” Thor frowned. “You could use the rest too.” 

“I’ll keep an eye on him for a few minutes,” she smiled at him. “Then I’ll get some sleep. Promise.” 

“Are you alright?” 

She nodded. “A bit bruised, that’s all. Nothing rest won’t fix.” 

“Then rest,” Thor nodded. 

He left the two alone, shutting the door behind him and following Bruce back down to the infirmary. Anticipation simmered in his stomach, seasoned with the need to formulate his plan now that he had new information, as well as excitement to finally meet the blonde man. 

“Just... be gentle,” Bruce urged as they approached. “He’s pretty reserved.” 

“Of course,” Thor nodded. Their guest had been through a lot, was probably confused and hurting, and not quite himself. Trauma changed people. But he couldn’t jump to conclusions, couldn’t assume this man would behave one way or another. Thor wiped his mind clear of pre-conceived ideas and walked through the door, his heart beating a bit faster than normal. 

The bed in the far corner was empty. The _room_ was empty. 

“He can’t have gone far,” Bruce did a quick scan, then strode to the window, peering out. 

“His friend,” Thor breathed. “He can’t have gone looking for him, could he?” 

“I already told him,” Bruce replied quietly, as if he had been responsible for the death. “At least he hasn’t jumped out the window...” 

“I’ll find him,” Thor was already running for the door, sliding round the corner. “I’ll bring him back!” 

He didn’t know what to expect. It was best, again, to cleanse his mind of expectation and just focus on tracking down the blonde. He had to be close, in his condition. But then, he’d been left alone for roughly an hour. It occurred to him then that he should have asked Bruce for a name. Too late, he was on his own. 

The midday sun beat down. Thor shed his jacket and draped it over his shoulder as he left the cool of the castle and started a lap around the grounds. He passed by the flower field first, searching among the gravestones smattered amidst the yellows, blues, reds, purples, and oranges, half expecting to find the man there. He jogged through the field and up the hill to where the greatest warriors were buried, where they’d buried the friend. The blonde wasn’t there either. Thor ran back down the hill and along the path to the training grounds. A handful of soldiers were there practicing with swords, and they turned to watch as he galloped by. When he reached the pond, he finally spotted a small shape huddled under the trees, staggering along the path barefoot. The blonde looked barely stable, arms wrapped tightly around himself as he shuffled along the dirt path. He looked about to fall over, swaying to one side or the other on occasion, and his back heaving with effort. Thor could hear him breathing as he got closer. 

Dressed in the pants they’d put him in when he’d first arrived plus a shirt Bruce must have given him, the blonde kept to the shade, shivering as if it were Winter instead of the height of Summer. Thor slowed, sidled up, but had no clue what to say as he fell in-step. The blonde looked up at him with a stare so direct and sharp, it caught him off guard. Those eyes were incredibly blue and determined, despite the dark grey splashed around them. He said not a word, and carried on. 

Thor patted his legs awkwardly and couldn’t help but stare as the blonde plowed on with a mission. He had to speak. “You should be in bed,” he reprimanded gently. A genuine growl bubbled in the blonde’s throat, shapely eyebrows pushing together and his lips pressing into a tight line. Thor knew right away that he had said the wrong thing. The blonde quickened his strides a little, despite the futility of trying to out-pace someone healthy and with much longer legs. Thor matched, just as determined. “Where are you going?” 

“Out,” came the terse reply. “Needed some air.” A reply, finally. The blonde’s voice was weak and rattling with the infection still acquiescing to Bruce’s medicines. He was moving stiffly, too, avoiding all movement possible in the torso. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead. 

Thor was about to open his mouth to apologize (for what exactly, he wasn’t sure yet; for forcing him to live? For not saving his friend? For HYDRA existing? Anything, and everything?), but the blonde tripped over his feet and pitched forward. Thor caught him by the chest, his other hand hovering over his back but daring not make contact with it. 

They stood there frozen, Thor afraid to pull his hand away lest the blonde topple over, or push him upright, and the blonde clutching his chest as he caught his breath, eyes wide. Finally, he gathered himself, steadying himself and pushing a quaking hand into Thor’s. “Please,” his voice was quiet now, void of that purpose and strength, hoarse with unshed tears. “Please, just... I just want to be alone.” 

Thor heard apology in the young man’s regretful, bleeding tone. He heard sadness and pain, saw it in the weight of slender shoulders and a bent spine. So he let go, stepped back, and watched in silence as the blonde trudged away. His heart ached, but he knew he couldn’t push. That was the best he could do, keep his distance and let the man have a bit of time to soak in the changes to his world. Reluctantly, he turned away. 

\-- 

His own heart ached to be with family members lost, and to reconnect with the man he was when he’d lost them. Thor brought his mandola to the flower fields that evening and climbed the hill. He walked between the huge stones surrounding the flattened crest of the special space, walked past the blank gravestone yet to be engraved, and found his family. 

It was a gorgeous night, warm and breezy, a few clouds keeping some heat in. Thor set the case on the ground and lifted out the mandola, draping his jacket across Loki’s grave and sitting on top. He crossed his ankles and held the instrument in his lap, gently plucking the strings. He used to sit on Loki all the time, especially when they were boys. He smiled at the memory, all the breath rushing out of his younger, smaller brother as Thor cut him off in the middle of a speech about something boring and squashed him into the floor. Loki had always loved to go into great detail about his studies, space in particular. Thor had always hated those long-winded exposes about stars and planets and everything out of reach, beyond their atmosphere. 

But he’d loved Loki’s stories. Thor found the key he wanted, unable to name chords or notes, but recognizing sounds. He knew what he was looking for, and found it with a little experimentation. A few soft strokes, and a gentle tune took him into one of Loki’s worlds. His brother’s imagination had always intrigued him. 

Mother watched from his left, Father on her other side. He’d wanted her in the middle, the glue that held their family together. He tried to remember snippets of her lessons to Loki, hearing her voice in his head as he adjusted his grip on the instrument. _‘Just like that, Loki, now curl your fingers, and sit up straight.’_ Thor straightened his back, resisting the urge to hunch over the instrument protectively. He struggled through a chord, working all the way up, then back down again, just as he remembered his mother teaching Loki. He was pretty sure he’d started at the wrong note, but it didn’t matter. 

Up the scale, then down again. There, he was pretty sure he’d found the right starting note this time. Thor played the scale again, and again, practicing smoothing the notes together. Next, he juggled the notes, rearranging them, going back and forth in between before completing the scale. He inserted half-steps, changed the rhythm, tried different things until he found a sound that grabbed him. Then, he let it take him someplace new. 

Nothing ever came out the same. That was fine. Thor hadn’t the patience to sit down in front of a sheet of music and try to learn it, but he could do this. This was fun, relaxing, enjoyable. It was what tied all the good things about his family to his heart. He hoped they were proud of him, that they missed him too, but not too much. He hoped they were finally happy, that the three of them were getting on together as they always should have. 

Thor worked his fingers up and down the neck of the mandola, strumming the strings back and forth with a loose wrist. This particular melody, in this key, reminded him of spring rain, of days spend as boys without responsibility hanging over their heads. 

A cough nearly gave him pause, but he kept up the tune, ears listening intently and his eyes finding the spot it had come from. He plucked the strings a little softer, straining to hear another giveaway. His enhanced ears could pick out some raspy breathing over the sound of the wind rustling the flowers and weaving through the huge stones encircling them. Thor smiled to himself, and focused on his song. 

It became a sort of gentle ballad. Perhaps someday he would think up some words to go along with the tune, but not today. Today, the images the song gave him were enough to carry his mind through some kind of tale. A journey, perhaps, through rolling hills of soft green grass. The wind that brushed his hair played itself into the melody, adding a drifting quality to the beat. The warm, fading sun eased the notes into a cheerful key, helping the notes to peacefully slide from one to the next. Thor played until it was dark, and the raspy breathing got deeper and deeper, until it became a quiet snore. 

The king smiled and eased the song to a stop. He set the mandola in its case and shut the lid, gathering his jacket and walking as quietly as he could through the flowers. He stopped at the gravestone of a soldier long dead and peered over. A tuft of blonde hair greeted him, the man himself curled on his side, his legs pulled in and his cheek resting against the stone. He was deeply asleep, arms still wrapped tightly around his chest as if holding himself together. 

He was still shivering, despite the warmth of the night. Thor didn’t hesitate to spread his jacket over the sleeping man, tucking it carefully around him so as not to disturb his back. The garment covered the blonde perfectly, even his bare feet which were drawn so closely into his body. The shivering eased, and some fingers slipped out by a sharp cheekbone to clutch the jacket closer to himself. 

Thor smiled. He sat down on the other side of the gravestone and put his shoulders to it, folding one leg under the other and leaning back. He laced his fingers in his lap and watched the mountains swallow the last glow of daylight. Then he shut his eyes, and went to sleep. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, you spoil me with your comments. Thank you as always <3

Steve woke up in bed. He blinked and looked around the room. He was back in the infirmary, laid on his side and tucked under his blankets.

The chair by his bed was still empty. Rubbing his eyes, Steve rolled onto his back and sat against the pillows with a groan. Every shift of his body made his back feel like it was coming apart at the seams, the edges of his skin splitting apart at the slightest twist or flex of muscle.

Bruce emerged from his room, walking over with medicine and bandages on a tray. He gave the blonde a smile. “Good morning,” he greeted, “you look better.” The doctor made no mention of Steve’s little outing yesterday, so Steve didn’t bring it up.

He didn’t say anything, moving on his own this time as he slid out of bed and took a seat in the chair so Bruce could look at his back. The doctor let him, which Steve was grateful  for. He couldn’t quite get his shirt off by himself, but Bruce took the edge and helped him without a fuss. Steve brushed aside his bangs and stared intently at the wall, steeling himself as the bandages were pulled loose.

There was a song in his head. Steve thought back to the man in the graveyard, plucking the strings of his instrument with a forlorn expression in his kind eyes, strong shoulders heavy with burden. Presumably, it was that man who had carried him back to the infirmary, and back to bed. A prince, maybe, by his clothes. Perhaps a soldier, given how big and strong he was. Steve remembered the sight of muscle pressing against the man’s white shirt as he’d snuck up the hill to hide behind a gravestone and listen to the music which had compelled his feet to take him there. That shirt had done barely anything to hide how much strength was contained in his back, long golden hair cascading over shoulders that could lift the world.

Or maybe he was just a servant. Steve didn’t know how much money people had in this kingdom, or how common folk normally dressed. Surely a prince would have no time for him. He was just a house guest.  _ The king does want to see me, though,  _ he reminded himself, still unsure exactly why.

He hardly noticed the agony of his wounds being treated. By the time he snapped back to the real world, Bruce was wrapping the last loop of bandage

Steve hadn’t asked what his back looked like. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what HYDRA had drawn into his skin with steel and cruel smiles.  _ They’d chained him there, arms spread, and the general stoked the fire crackling behind him. He could feel the heat on his back already, knew what was about to happen as he heard metal stirring coal. The poker was moved toward his skin, closer and closer, until it was so close it hurt. That was just a taste of what was to come. A second later, the poker was pushed against his shoulder blade, twisted back and forth slightly and tearing the skin as the heat melted it. Steve hadn’t screamed, had bit his tongue and shut his tearing eyes, but hadn’t made a sound. They’d pulled back, heated the poker again, a handful of soldiers gathered around murmuring and chuckling to themselves as the poker came back, approached his other shoulder- _

“Steve.” Bruce stood over him, some clothes folded over his arm. A clean shirt and some pants, a jacket, a pair of boots in his hand. “How are you feeling?” There was concern in his eyes.

Steve wiped away a couple of tears. “Better.” He paused a beat, angry for a moment that he was being treated like this, useless and sick – but Bruce wasn’t patronizing or coddling him. He was keeping a respectful distance, worried but unpitying. Steve looked away with shame. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

Bruce just smiled at him. “Here,” he offered. “You can have these. Lord Thor found you some more clothes. He’s put them in your room.”

“Room...?” Steve looked up, confused.

“You’re welcome to stay here,” Bruce agreed. “You don’t have to, but you can if you want. Thor’s insisting you do. But I’m sure there are places in the city you can stay if you prefer.”

Steve shook his head, agape. He had no money, and so this generous hospitality was his only option. “Th-thanks.”

“Don’t thank me, it’s not my room to give,” Bruce held out the clothes.

Steve stood and took them. “N-no, I mean, for this.” He tapped his bandaged chest.

“I’d have to be some kind of cruel to leave you fend for yourself,” Bruce smiled with pride. “But you’re welcome.”

The doctor turned away, and Steve sat on the edge of the bed to face the window, beginning the laborious process of getting dressed. His own body had always conspired against him, so stiffness born of long hours suffering in bed wasn’t alien to him. This was more, though. Steve had cracked a rib or two in his lifetime, but this was far worse. He couldn’t move his spine without aggravating his destroyed back, couldn’t lift his arms higher than his chest. Even the headache at the base of his neck made it hard to turn his head. But he made due, and Bruce left him to fend for himself, busying himself with organizing shelves nearby. 

Everything fit pretty well. Steve had never owned clothes this new before. He didn’t even need the belt to keep the pants on his slender hips, but he tightened it anyway. The shirt was a challenge. Just as he was stiffly drawing it over his head, a set of footsteps echoed down the hallway. Steve hurriedly yanked the shirt over his wounded back, desperate to hide the damage in case someone saw it and knew how badly hurt he was. They couldn’t know, he didn’t want them to, he would be fine. They would pity him, value him less, treat him like an invalid. Hands shaking, Steve fussed with the shirt to make sure it covered him.

“Thor. How’s Clint?” Bruce’s voice, a little muted because it was slightly to  Steve’s partially-deaf side.

“He’s well,” Thor replied, deep voice vibrating like a base string. “A little weary, but Natasha is keeping him in bed where he belongs.”

“I’ll go check on him,” Bruce agreed, and Steve’s heart clenched nervously.  _ Don’t go.  _ Bruce was practically a stranger, but he was starting to become familiar, and safe. The doctor had only treated him with respect so far. Steve dreaded new company, and how they would regard him. He could already feel the bubbling frustration in his stomach that always rose up in response to the looks people gave him. Looks that spoke:  _ Mrs. Rogers’ boy is sick again,  _ _ poor _ _ thing. _

_ Curse this useless body.  _ Steve slammed his boots on the floor much harder than necessary. He grabbed his socks and tugged his feet into them one at a time, wincing as his back strained.

Only one pair of feet left the infirmary. Steve tensed, moving as smoothly as possible as he tied his boot laces and tried not to show pain. He stood up and slowly turned to find the man from the graveyard on the other side of the bed, waiting for him with a hesitant smile on his face. The man gave a little awkward wave. “Good morning.”

Thor.  _ Lord _ Thor. King. The King.

He didn’t  _ look _ like a king. Well, not in the typical sense. Steve had expected something... shinier. A crown, certainly. Big robes, jewelry, a more boastful attitude. A cape, probably. Thor stood before him in clothes that weren’t that different from his own, a fitting red leather jacket over a cream shirt. They barely hid how huge the king was. And he was  _ huge, _ towering over Steve, muscles bulging through his clothes.

Thor wasn’t particularly intimidating either, not with his friendly smile and welcoming eyes. He couldn’t be much older than Steve himself, mid-twenties. Too young to be a king. This was the man to whom he owed his life.

But all he could manage was a cagey posture.  _ I don’t need help. I don’t need yours, or anybody’s help. I’m just fine on my own. I don’t need your charity-  _ Only, he did. He needed Bruce’s medicine to make sure he got better, and he needed the roof over his head because he had no money, and nowhere to go. But he didn’t need help with his jacket. He could have that, at the very least. Steve took a couple of defiant paces toward his bed and pulled on the garment, grunting in pain as he  moved a bit too sharply, but getting on with the task. To his credit, Thor too gave him space to make his own way.

“How are you feeling today?” It was just a question, no implications behind it.

“Fine,” Steve didn’t mean to snap. He was hurting, and there was a tremor in his hands that he doubted would go away anytime soon.

“I found a spare room for you. I can take you there, if you like,” Thor suggested. “Or we can look for somewhere in the city, if you prefer... There’s an inn not far from here. The owner would let you stay there.”

Choices. To his surprise, he loathed the idea of being alone in the city. He was alone here too, essentially, but at least it was something. He had company. And he didn’t know his way around the city, either. What if he got lost, or mugged? There would be no-one to come looking for him, no-one to drag himself home to. Bucky wouldn’t be there to drag him out of a fight he couldn’t hope to win, which was all of them. No, he was better of here. Safer.

“I’ll show you the room,” Thor offered gently, breaking the silence with kind understanding. “You don’t have to decide now.”

Steve nodded mutely, and followed.

Thor set the pace, a leisurely stroll that Steve could match. He tucked himself into his jacket, grateful for its warmth. Getting warm had always been hard, especially amidst a sickness. When his infection cleared up, though, Steve knew these nicer clothes would do a much better job of keeping his anemic body warm. He’d never felt so small as he did next to the towering man beside him. Thor practically glowed beside him, the very image of vitality.

They walked in silence, Steve not knowing what to say, nor even what to make of the presence at his side. Thor led, but never pulled ahead, finally drawing up to a door and unlocking it. He opened the door and gestured inside for Steve to enter. Steve did, peering around the space being offered to him. It was half the size of the whole house he and Ma had lived in. There was a big bed in the corner near the window, a dresser against one wall, and a steel bath basin across from it. The walls were decorated in more of those beautiful tapestries. It was warmer than his old house, too. Steve wandered in, ran his fingers along the sheets neatly tucked in around the bed. The covers were soft and thick, and the pillows generous. The frame didn’t creak when he sat on the edge, either.

Steve looked back to Thor, who was standing in the doorway watching him, a small smile on his lips, one foot crossed over the other. “Can I really stay here?” It seemed far too nice for someone like him, just a common boy off the street.

“Of course,” Thor beamed.

“I...” Steve smoothed out his shirt self-consciously, fiddling with the edge. “Thank you.” He knew he needed to say more, but he couldn’t form the words, and so stood in shameful silence.

Once again, Thor filled in for him. “Come on. It’s a lovely day,” the king offered, straightening. “Let me show you around the city.”

To Steve’s own surprise, he agreed. Thor didn’t ask him any more questions about his health either, casting him one solitary surveying glance before respectfully leaving the matter of Steve’s injuries alone. He handed Steve the room key.

“Thanks,” Steve replied quietly, drawing the door shut and locking it. He put the key in his pocket and looked up. It was a long way to look. “Are... are you sure this is okay?” It shouldn’t be this easy to forget he was still talking to a king. The king of  _ Asgard _ _ , _ no less, a place proclaimed to be one of the greatest kingdoms in the world, a place born of legend that produced legends itself. How many of those tales were about Thor himself?  _ Not many, surely. He can’t have been king long. _

“ Of course it’s alright,” Thor replied cheerfully. “I’m the king.”

That seemed intuitive. Steve nodded, deciding not to argue.  _ What about your people? Do you usually wander around with random people you scraped off the street? Don’t you have a reputation to uphold?  _ But what did he know? And what was the point of being king if you couldn’t go for a walk when, where, and with whomever you wanted?

That was that. Steve set his feet walking and followed the King of  Asgard all through the castle. The hallways alone were gorgeous. Steve’s fingers itched to hold a pencil and sketch it on paper. His eyes traced the detail in the ornate gold-wrapped pillars and archways building up wide, high corridors. He slowed to admire every oil painting and stone sculpture along the way, and Thor patiently allowed him the time to do so, that soft smile never fading. 

He finally came a little closer and spoke, jumping Steve out of his reverie; he’d gotten stuck on this particular painting, lingering much longer for the brush strokes capturing his eye. Thor reached up past his shoulder and pointed at the figures in the painting; there was a man on a horse, wielding a golden spear, a stone jar decorated with runes in his arm. From inside cast a soft verdant glow. Opposing the man was an army of dark shadows shaped like men. The farthest were crawling over their brethren with bloodlust painted in their hollow eyes, while the nearest shied away in fear from the horse-riding warrior’s shining spear and magic jar.

“The great battle against the shadow elves,” Thor explained, and Steve swore there were hints of sorrow and anger in his voice as he gestured to the shining man on the horse. “My father, many decades ago. He took a small army to where they reside and stole an ancient relic of prosperity and fertility from their caves. It was considered a brave and noble quest.”

There was just a drop of resentment at the end. Steve looked over at Thor with a slight frown. “Did it work?”

“It’s just a trinket,” Thor replied darkly. “One which many men died for.” His easy-going charm quickly hardened.

Steve bit his lip and stared back up at the painting. There were no other soldiers in the painting, just the former king, proudly sat atop his horse like a hero.

Thor shook off the tension and turned to look at him, his smile back in place. Steve’s short-sighted yet perceptive eyes spotted the lingering sorrow beneath them, though, sorrow which had woven its way into the king’s music yesterday evening. “You haven’t had breakfast yet, have you.”

Steve was about to brush it off, so used to sometimes skipping meals, and not wanting to impose, but his stomach gave him away. A little pink with embarrassment, he agreed: “Not yet.”

“No time to waste, then,” Thor gestured down the hall, waiting for Steve to move toward him before walking. “Breakfast must be ready by now.” And he started off with the excitement of a child off to raid the larder at midnight.

Steve kept up, grateful that the king was still mindful of his smaller, sickly companion trailing at his heels. It would be nice to eat something aside from soup, good as that soup had been. It would be good to eat  _ anything _ , and the thought of it being probably the best food in the land? That was enough to imbue him with some extra energy. 

The smell of fresh baking wafted to his nose long before they reached the kitchens, at which point Thor sped up and jogged ahead, turning a corner. “Wait there,” the king poked his head  around the corner, then vanished. By the time Steve made it all the way there and was peering down some steps into the kitchens, Thor was already reappearing with an armful of food. “Here,” he hopped up the steps two at a time like a deer and handed over a warm bun.

Steve took it in his hands. The roll was warm and soft, dusted with flour that came off on his fingers. He broke it open and the steam hit his face. The flavor was sweet when he bit into it, the bread melting into his tongue.

“Here,” Thor dropped some berries into the tear Steve had made. They were red and fat, bleeding juice into the bread the second Steve pushed on them. He had a bite, immediately enjoying the pleasant fruity sweetness.

“What are they?” Steve looked up.

“Raspberries,” Thor explained, eating a couple himself. “They’re good, aren’t they.”

_ Very.  _ Steve enjoyed his breakfast in subdued silence, following Thor back out of the castle, through the huge support pillars, down the wide steps, and into the sun. Before yesterday’s wander through the castle grounds, it had been a long time since he’d been in the sun. Weeks. Feeling it now on his shoulders made yesterday seem not to count, and his lips almost tugged up into a smile. A few people milled around, servants leading out horses for soldiers to mount and ride off into the city on patrol. A few civilians walked through, on their way to their castle duties, or just passing through the courtyard.

As Thor passed, they stopped to give small respectful bows before carrying on their way. Steve watched, fascinated. He watched their king mingle with them undaunted and unabashed, giving out cheerful greetings without limitation. Anyone close by got one. There was  unspoken mutual respect between  ruler and nation, which Steve observed in silence as he followed.

Steve had never been to the city before. The walk had always been too long for him on foot, and they’d never had the money for a horse. The whole place was bustling with life, normal people just going about their daily routines. Thor took him down through the commercial streets lined with vendors selling just about everything. There was so much character and life here, every which way he turned. He wished Bucky were here to see it. He’d have loved the  bustle, the wide variety of goods being sold. They passed a blacksmith, a tanner, a tailor, all selling wares Steve had never seen made before. It still didn’t feel like his best friend was gone, that he would be waiting for him when he got home. He knew Bucky would have enjoyed watching leather being sewn together to make saddles and other equipment, would have been fascinated by the process of beating glowing hot steel into a sword – 

His back seared at the sight, and Steve quickly looked away, his legs feeling suddenly very wobbly, and the general’s voice hissing close to his ear.  _ 'Promise your complacency and I can lessen your suffering,’ the man demanded. ‘Who you were no longer exists. You belong to HYDRA now. One way or another, we will make you ours, even if it must be by force.’ _

_ He wouldn’t submit to them. He wouldn’t. Complacency was to lose, and he would never give HYDRA what they wanted. Once they had his soul, he’d lost. Even if they ruined his body, they would never win. All he had to do was keep his spirit strong, even as they brought the poker to his skin over and over again, until that was all his world was, heat and pain and the smell of burning flesh – _

Someone said something a bit muffled, to his left side, his bad side. He snapped from the memory and glanced up. Thor was looking down at him, concern back in his gaze and his head cocked  slightly . They’d paused in the street, side-by-side now, foot traffic flowing seamlessly around them.

“Sorry,” Steve mumbled, turning to face the king and tapping his good ear. “Missed that.”

“I just asked if you were feeling alright,” Thor replied softly, “you went a bit pale, that’s all. But we can keep going.”

Steve realized Thor was backing up a bit, starting to walk on. He remembered his harsh demeanor back in the path yesterday, and tried to wipe the determined scowl that was trying to settle on his face. He had nothing to prove, and Thor wasn’t trying to belittle him by being worried for him. “I’m okay,” he reassured with a small nod, “thank you.”

And Thor didn’t press. He just agreed and started to lead the way again. Steve followed along, feeling more subdued than before, and less interested in the world around him. He missed Bucky, and his back hurt. 

Someone nudged past him from behind, jostling his back just a tiny bit. That was all it took to drag a gasp through his lips. The person hardly noticed him, carrying on his way, but Thor noticed, heard the sound he made and turned. Steve’s legs nearly gave way under the flaring agony, and the shame that it had taken so little to render him to pieces. He barely noticed Thor’s gentle hand on his shoulder, guiding him into a little alleyway away from the throng, steadying him but otherwise maintaining a respectful distance.

Steve caught his breath, leaning forward into Thor’s hand instead of against the brick behind him. He choked trying to hold it in and gather himself, embarrassed at the display even though Thor was patiently guarding him, quiet and unpitying.  _ Curse me, curse this...  _

The wave finally passed. Steve caught his breath and swallowed the bile in his throat, straightening at much as he could manage and pulling back from Thor’s supportive hand. “Thanks,” he mumbled, too ashamed to make eye contact. “I’m okay.”  _ You’re okay. You’re alright. Get up, Rogers, brush yourself off, stand up straight.  _ "Can we keep going? Please?” The alternative was back to the castle, back to bed, and he didn’t want that. He wanted fresh air and sunshine. He managed to look up, forcing their eyes to meet.

Thor just smiled at him, friendly and understanding. He had no expectations, none that were visible in his expression anyway. There was only concern. “Certainly,” he agreed, pulling back his hand now that he knew Steve didn’t need it to stay vertical.

Steve stopped him, reaching out to take his wrist before the king could turn away. His own boldness surprised him, but he had to do this. He owed the man who had saved his life, fed and clothed him, and given him a roof over his head at least this. “It’s Steve,” he said quietly. Maybe Bruce had already told the king the name of his new house guest, but it was important Steve share it himself.

Thor’s smile grew in size, the light hitting the back of his head and framing it in gold as it struck his hair. His kind eyes sparkled in the shadows of the alleyway. “Welcome to Asgard, Steve.” The arm pulled free of his hand easily, and Thor shook the hand with his. It was a firm shake, large fingers wrapping around his slender ones. “Thor.”

It was redundant for the king to introduce himself, but Steve appreciated it all the same, the humility of the gesture. He squeezed the hand firmly back, and his legs felt a bit stronger under him. They left the alley, Thor to his right and slightly behind, guarding his back with that subtle gesture and staying by his better ear. Steve didn’t know if the king had picked up on that by the way he’d turned his head earlier to hear better, or if it was just coincidence, but he appreciated it anyway. And with that buffer at his side, he felt a bit safer among the crowd. It was a thoughtful gesture, one that tugged his injured heart together.

\--

Steve still felt the shadow of dread lingering on his shoulders after passing the blacksmiths, but he managed to lighten a bit and enjoy the private tour of  Asgard . He forgot about Thor’s titles almost immediately once again as the king led him through the streets, always keeping a pace he could match comfortably, and making no mention of his wounds.

It was the height of day when Steve realized he didn’t have the legs to keep going. Thor noticed his lagging speed, labored breaths, and hunched posture before he had to say a thing about it and politely turned them back toward the castle. He continued to speak about the city as they walked, and Steve was grateful for the distraction from his aching back. 

“When I was a boy my brother and I used to run up and down the streets,” Thor explained with a reminiscent smile on his solid features. “He was much nimbler than I was, and we used to get under people’s feet. We caused a lot of accidents in those days.”

Steve licked dry lips and gazed up and down the street, trying to imagine the life of a young prince in this paradise. He looked at his feet again, remembering days when he and Bucky used to tousle in the fields, like brothers. It wasn’t fair, that Bucky’s body was lying somewhere while Steve got to walk the streets of a  place they’d heard wild tales of. Sometimes they’d dreamed of coming to a prosperous land and living a better life. Steve had always wondered that if he could somehow get his mother here, that perhaps  Asgard would have had the medicine to help her. If they’d tried to get here before HYDRA had arrived, maybe all three of them would be alive and well here.

Somehow, it was Steve who had outlived them. Fate was a cruel thing.

They were back at the castle, the chatter dimming to a minimum as they  crowds thinned and the steps into the main hall welcomed them. The hot midday sun beat down, shining brilliantly off the white stone.  Asgard’s flag flew proudly high above them. Steve looked up to see it fluttering on the turrets, shielding his squinting eyes. He could just make out its blurry shape with his poor eyesight.

“Bruce may chastise me if I keep you out much longer,” Thor gestured up the stairs, starting to lead the way again.

Steve stayed rooted in place, and Thor stopped on the first step when he realized he wasn’t being followed, turning to look back. “Where’s Bucky?” Steve asked quietly. “His body...” He swallowed roughly, but kept himself together.

It took Thor a moment or two to realize, but he put the name to the face as he made his way back over. “This way,” he gestured softly. “I’ll show you.”

Steve followed, unable to pin why there was guilt in the king’s eyes. They walked around the side of the castle, past the training grounds, past the pathway by the pond and through the trees, all the way to the graveyard in the flower field. Steve admired the flowers as he followed Thor through them, reading random names off the headstones as they carried on all the way to the little hill. They walked up, through the obelisks surrounding the special area, past the place Thor had sat to play his instrument the other night. They passed the stone Steve had taken refuge behind to listen, walking right up to a blank stone.

Thor stood back to give him some space. Steve walked up to the stone and more fell than sat in front of it. The dirt had been newly disturbed, but the flowers on top were immaculately kept in-tact. All evidence that the earth had recently been dug up would vanish under new grass in a matter of days. It was enough to solidify the truth that Bucky was dead. Steve would have thought he’d have needed to see the body to confirm it was true, but feeling the dirt under his hands confirmed it. His heart sank, and all the emotion dropped right out of him.

He didn’t know how to feel. Sorrow, for certain, but it was so pure that he could hardly process it. It felt like a piece of himself had been ripped out and laid in front of him like a trophy. His heart ached so badly that he forgot about his back. Before he knew it, he was clenching the ground in his shaking fists, tears pricking his eyes and carving tracks down his motionless face. He couldn’t hold them in anymore.

A shadow fell over him, and a gentle hand landed on his neck, safely away from his burned back. Steve heaved a submissive sigh and drew in his legs, wrapping his arms around them and landing his forehead onto his knees. Finally, he let go.

It just wasn’t  _ fair.  _ Hadn’t he suffered enough in this life? Hadn’t his crooked back, deaf ear, short-sighted and color-blind eyes, weak immune system, and faltering heart been enough? These people would soon find out he’d have been of better use dead, that he was more trouble than he was worth. This didn’t end when his back healed, when the horrible tears were reduced to horrible scarring. He would be sick and in need of medicine again. And again. And again.

“I’m sorry,” Thor’s voice broke through. “I’m so sorry, Steve... We did everything we could think of to save him.”

It wouldn’t bring Bucky back, but it was something. It wasn’t Thor’s fault, but it was  _ something.  _ Bucky had made his choice to give what life was left in him so Steve could have a chance to live his. Those poisons would have killed him regardless. He’d have wanted to go out like this instead of in a cell. And he’d wanted Steve to be safe.  _ But I wanted to be safe with you. _

That was no longer an option. Bucky was gone. Watching from above, he hoped, keeping an eye on him.  _ Don’t worry about me, jerk.  _ _ Gotta _ _ keep moving, right? Get  _ _ up, _ _ brush myself off, move on.  _ If Bucky had given him this, he had better cherish the gift. He owed his friend that much, at least.

“We can write anything you want on the stone,” Thor promised quietly, his hand still in place on Steve’s neck. He liked it there. It reminded him that the world wasn’t cold and lonely.

Steve sniffed and pulled his face off his knees, rubbing his eyes. He stared at the blank stone wearily, trying to think of what he wanted written.

“You don’t have to decide now,” Thor suggested softly. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Steve shook his head. Bucky deserved to be honored, and his resting place marked. “James ‘Bucky’ Barnes,” he murmured. “A friend.” That felt right.

“It should be done by morning,” Thor agreed, pulling his hand away from his neck and looping it through Steve’s arm to help him stand.

Steve swayed, sweaty and dizzy. He quietly accepted the help, Thor’s unwavering strength and stability making up for his total lack of. He held another moment, staring at the stone. “And... Sarah Rogers,” he whispered. “Please.” He had nothing to bury, but she needed a resting place too, something to mark her existence, if only to him.

“It shall be done,” Thor agreed somberly, a ghost in his eyes. “Come. Rest.” He gave the order explicitly, though ever gentle, and it was enough to shock Steve into obeying. He trudged along by the aid of the king, feeling a bit heavier, but like he was no longer strung up by threads of a past life he would never get back. Ma and Buck were gone, but  Asgard was now.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a few more things to set up, and we can start to ramp up the action. It's coming, I promise. But still plenty more feels to come.

Steve looked dead on his feet, but he persisted all the way back to his room. Thor helped him off with his boots and to climb into bed. He pulled back the covers and offered his arm for the other man to cling to as Steve lowered himself onto his side. Steve was asleep before the blankets could be pulled over him, his forelock flopped in his reddened face.

Bruce was here now, listening to his patient’s breathing. “He’s just tired,” the doctor announced quietly, leaving a pitcher of water and cup by the bed and padding to the door. “I’ll make sure he gets something to eat when he wakes up.”

“Good,” Thor nodded his thanks, and took his leave. As much as he wanted to stay here, he had work to do. 

The court were waiting for him in the planning room. Natasha was there, Clint at her side looking a bit pale and hunched over, but otherwise alright. Everyone in the room gave pause to offer their king a bow as he entered. As usual, he didn’t much care for it.

“The boy, is he awake yet?” Sitwell, one of his advisors asked.

“Yes, he has,” Thor nodded, placing his hands on the table and staring across the map at those gathered.  _ He’s not a boy. _ “He’s healing well.”

“Good to hear,” the man nodded cordially. “And what information does he have on HYDRA?”

“I haven’t asked him yet,” Thor admitted. “But I will soon-”

“There’s no time to waste,” Stane butted in sternly, as if Thor were still being toted around in his mother’s arms. “We must know as soon as we can. There is  war on the horizon, Lord Thor. Where is he?”

“Resting,” Thor replied, straightening to his full impressive height and levelling his gaze. “He’s been badly injured by HYDRA, and he deserves time to recover before we go questioning him about those who hurt him.”

“He’s not a house guest.”

“He is a guest in this castle, and will be treated as such.” Thor held his stare firmly. “You will not disturb him.”

Stane met the king’s gaze defiantly, but finally looked away and dipped his head respectfully. That was that. Thor resolved to make sure Steve had no unwanted visitors.

Just like that, they plunged back into strategy. With the information Natasha and Clint had brought back, they were approaching something workable. “With the base in the West gathering and training troops, we need to start coming up with a plan to destroy it and any other bases while we still can,” Thor explained. “If they all attack at once with as many men as they have, we could be outnumbered five to one, or much more. We don’t know the total number of soldiers we’re up against.”

“By the size of the base we explored, that figure could be more like ten to one,” Clint explained. “Until we know how big the other camps are, and how many camps there  _ are _ , we’re just guessing.”

“We need more scouting parties,” one advisor suggested, and Thor’s stomach dropped. They had already sent out one, and lost one man. It had been an unfortunate circumstance, yes, but would he have to lose one man per party? Unlucky that a patrol had passed by when it did, but when other dangers lay in wait for other scouting parties in other HYDRA camps? Accidents were one thing, but known odds made Thor feel uneasy. He didn’t like sending men to their deaths, under any circumstances.

“Lord Thor. We can have three small parties sent out at dawn tomorrow,” the advisor was repeating himself. “Two to explore the bases we know about, and a third to hunt for others.”

Thor stared at the map. He knew they were right, that he needed to be scouting and gathering information, but the danger felt like it should be too high a cost. In terms of strategy and sacrifice, for all HYDRA could do with this kingdom and the  _ world _ , he knew it was a more than a fair cost to pay. A few lives for the many. Maybe all the scouts would make it back, too. “Alright,” he agreed reluctantly, trying to sound confident and commanding instead. He filled out his shoulders, swelling into his shirt with each breath.  _ He  _ was in charge here. This was his choice. He had to be confident when giving orders, especially when sending his men places that were dangerous.

And he needed to speak with Steve. Maybe the man was feeling better for a nap, and would be awake again. Thor left the room as soon as the meeting was over, Natasha and Clint joining him at his side.

“We need to talk,” Natasha nudged his shoulder, glancing over hers.

“My room,” Thor nodded, guiding the way. He unlocked his door and ducked inside, letting his friends slip in behind him and shutting the door. Clint took a heavy seat at the table while Natasha shut the windows and pulled the blinds. They gathered at the table near the center of the room and sat, while she poured out water.

“We found something you need to know about,” Natasha explained quietly. “They’re keeping someone in the Western base. A blacksmith. HYDRA is using him to make stronger weapons and armor.  Apparently he knows how to make alloys that are stronger and lighter than what we use.”

HYDRA wasn’t just building a  _ big _ army – they were building the toughest army they could. Thor swallowed some water and leaned his hand on the table. “Why tell me here?”

“Because your dad’s court is shady,” Clint leaned back in his chair and sipped his water. “All they care about is getting out of this alive, preferably with your kingdom. That’s all they ever cared about.”

“A bold claim,” Thor huffed, staring at the table as they all hung in silence, musing over the implications. Odin’s court had always been a tad too willing to endorse another quest for some useless trinket. Thor knew those quests had been partly for publicity, that reclaiming relics from ancient evils and bringing them back safely to  Asgard’s vaults made the people feel encouraged by the strength and bravery of their king and his army.

“You’re a threat,” Natasha explained, “because you can’t be manipulated. I’ve seen them try, and it always fails. But they’ll figure out your vices, Thor, and you need to be careful. You can’t let them know what you know. Not all of it, at least. And you can’t give them anything they can use to blackmail you.”

“What should I do?” Thor looked up at his friends. “I can’t simply get rid of them. That wouldn’t look good.”  _ Luckily though, all my family is dead. At least they can’t use that against me. _

Natasha’s eyebrow quirked. “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” she explained casually. “Don’t let them out of your sight. If they have something to hide, they’ll slip up. Getting rid of them would be dangerous, because it would set them free.”

“We’ll keep an eye out,” Clint agreed, “and let you know if we find anything.”

“Even the smallest detail,” Thor nodded. “Thank you. And Steve... I don’t want them near him.”

“They won’t touch him,” Natasha promised.

“You have permission to take prisoners if they try,” Thor nodded. Men who gave him those sorts of knotted feelings in his gut belonged far, far away from people like Steve.  _ Kind, brave souls who have suffered beyond what a person ever should. _

“Understood,” Clint grinned, and Natasha nodded. 

\--

According to Bruce, Steve had slept through the entire second half of the day, but was awake when Thor came to see him in the evening. He knocked gently on the door and walked in, dreading what he had to do.

Steve was there by the window, leaning on his elbows. He turned his head the bare minimum to see who was there, before looking back out at the trees below. The setting sun cast his face in soft orange, lighting up his eyes. They were dry, but sad and lost in a world long-gone.

“Nice evening,” Thor kept a few feet of distance between them. Steve huffed. He yearned to walk closer, but held himself back. “I wondered if you would join me for dinner.”

Steve sighed and turned around, limping over to his bed for his boots. He sat down heavily and started to work them on.

Thor watched. “I’m sure Bruce told you I wanted to talk to you,” he explained quietly, wishing he didn’t have to do this. The other man nodded, tying up his laces and grabbing his jacket where it hung on the bedpost. “I’m sure you know about the war that’s coming....” the king started to lead the way to the door, wishing he didn’t feel the need to justify the questions he was about to ask. 

Steve nodded, shrugging stiffly into his jacket and locking his bedroom door. He fell quietly into step beside Thor, looking haunted but determined to keep up, his shorter legs striding faster than they should be in his condition.

“Sleep alright?” Thor asked. “If it’s too cold I can find you more blankets-”

“I’m fine,” Steve shook his head tersely, giving pause before turning his head up to make  eye contact. His gaze had softened, and his voice was apologetic. “Sorry... I’m okay. Really. It’s perfect.”

The king took his word for it. It wasn’t his place to pry. He just nodded and dropped the subject, leading the way to his own chambers and opening the door. Dinner was laid out for him already, his usual spread plus some extra for Steve. There was a bit of everything for him to try. Thor glanced back and was pleased to find that Steve was staring with wide eyes and parted lips. It was probably more food than he’d ever seen in one place. It was a proud moment to give him something new.

Thor shut the door behind them and gestured a chair for Steve, sitting at the adjacent side to start his own meal. With his power came the need to fuel it. Luckily,  Asgard was fertile. Thor wasn’t sure how he could ever justify eating so much if his kingdom were in famine.

Steve drew his plate to himself and reached for the food closest to him with a little wince as he stretched out his arm. Thor nudged the basket of fruit a bit closer without a word, watching as his guest plucked out a plum and took a curious bite out of it. His sad eyes brightened, and he went at it with a bit more enthusiasm.

They ate in silence for a little while, Thor pushing this and that within easy reach and watching as the other man slowly built up the confidence to eat without reserve. Nothing was off-limits. Steve ate a deceptive amount, trying a little bit of everything with squinting eyes. Thor poured him some water and pushed it over. They were lucky in Asgard to have such a plentiful source of fresh, cold mountain water. 

Looking a little livelier, Steve gathered his cup of water and licked blueberry juice off his fingers, taking a sip to wash it down. He held the cup protectively, tracing the designs with his long fingers and visibly steeling himself. He looked up. “What did you want to ask me about?” he asked in a dreading, shaky voice.

Thor heart squeezed tightly in his chest. He hated himself. “I need to ask you about HYDRA,” he replied apologetically. “If you know anything about them. You don’t have to answer. I won’t press, I promise, but if you can-”

Steve cut off his rambling with a shake of his head, his breathing shorter than before. His lower lip was trembling as he spoke. “N-no, s’okay. You gotta know. Gotta beat’em.”

“It doesn’t have to be now,” Thor assured gently. This didn’t feel right at all. It was too soon to ask a tormented man to relive his experiences.

“War won’t wait,” Steve bravely replied with distant eyes, swallowing roughly. “Might not know much though...”

“That’s alright,” the king replied with an easy smile. 

“Didn’t see much,” Steve put down the cup before the water could slosh over the side, clasping his hands in his lap. “They were testing poisons, or something. Don’t know what they were  tryin’a make. They were building an army, I know that. Makin’ prisoners fight each other, see who won. Kids, too. Were cuttin’ the prisoners down by half like that, picking the strongest ones.”

Thor was glad he’d finished eating, because he wouldn’t have been able to stomach it now. He fought to keep anger off his face, and to just listen. “Did they make you fight?” he asked quietly.

Steve shook his head. “Tried to. But I couldn’t kill a kid. He was  shakin ’, could barely hold the sword they gave him. Neither could I, really.” He huffed to himself in dry amusement. “He was  gonna try to kill me, but I told him to drop the sword, that he didn’t have to do what they told him. He dropped it. So they gave me this,” Steve tapped his shoulder, visibly more haunted.

Battles were won in the hearts of men as much as by their blades. Thor saw a glimmer of the man worth dying for under the veil of sadness and suffering. Shoulders that were worn and weary from a lifetime of pain were still holding strong. It was a bit more information than Thor had expected to receive, but he was proud to have it, that little trust offering.

“That’s all I know, I’m sorry,” Steve murmured, staring blankly at the fingers curled in his lap. His thin shoulders were quaking ever so slightly under his jacket.

“It’s something,” Thor smiled gratefully, trying to keep his guilt to himself. Now was the time to appreciate what he’d been given, not apologize and diminish its weight. “Thank you.”

They fell into silence again, Steve picking at some more food, clearly trapped in a place he was trying to crawl out of. It seemed he’d reached a stalemate. Thor stood up, unable to bear the sight anymore.

“Come on,” he urged, holding out his hand to help the other man stand. “It’s a nice evening. Why don’t we go for a walk?”

He thought for a moment that Steve might refuse, but the other man didn’t. He took the hand offered and used it to help pull himself out of his chair. “Alright,” he agreed, and there was a hint of relieved gratefulness in his eyes.

Thor took him once around the path by the pond before escorting him back to bed. He told more stories about growing up here, and his companion didn’t seem to mind his rambling at all, quiet but no longer so lost in his head. Thor helped Steve get comfortable in bed, and resolved then to make him smile in any way he could.

\--

To his surprise, Steve was already up that morning. When Thor found the bedroom door locked, he went to talk to Bruce; apparently, Steve had come by for his medicine and to have the bandages changed on his back, and then he’d gone out.

The council were waiting for him, but Thor forgot them and started looking. Steve wasn’t hard to find: he was up on the hill, sat staring at the newly-carved letters in the headstone. He’d found the clean clothes Thor had had his dresser filled with.

“Good morning,” Thor stood behind him, watching him roll dirt around in his fingers aimlessly, legs crossed.

It took Steve a moment to realize he had company, turning slowly. He didn’t get far before freezing, wincing and straightening. He climbed to his feet and turned around, still a bit unstable but improved.

Thor gave him a smile. “I didn’t expect you to be awake so early.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Steve shrugged, avoiding eye contact. He was straightening out his clothes, trying to pull to his full height against his hurting back. “Didn’t want to be  lyin ’ around all day. Got bored.”

_ You’re not supposed to be bored; you’re supposed to be resting, and healing,  _ Thor couldn’t help but be charmed. His smile twitched with amusement. “At ease, soldier,” he urged, and Steve went lax almost immediately. “Come on, I’ll find you something to do.”

Gratefully, Steve followed him back down to the castle.

“How are you feeling?” Thor led him up the steps.

“Better.” It was something, but not much. Thor suspected that ‘tired’ should be in there somewhere, but he didn’t press. It was likely Steve wasn’t sleeping because of bad dreams, in which case it wasn’t anybody’s business to pry. Maybe when they knew each other better he could try, but for now all he could do was make sure all possible comforts were provided. He could try and soothe the heart once he’d learned a bit more about the man he was trying to assimilate.

“You’re welcome to explore the kingdom in your own time,” Thor offered. “You aren’t trapped here.”

Steve nodded, unenthusiastic.

“What do you like to do? I’m sure I could find you the supplies.”

At that, Steve perked a bit, lifting his head and looking over with hopeful eyes. “I... like to draw. If you have paper...”

Of course they had paper. A simple request. Thor grinned back. “Come on,” he invited. “I’ll find you some.” It was cruel to ask a man to rest and not attempt to occupy his mind. Especially someone as bright and attentive as Steve. And restless. Thor could understand not wanting to be stuck in bed any longer than necessary.

It wasn’t quite a smile, but it was something. Steve was unfolding before his eyes, pulling out of his shoulders and brightening. The frown wasn’t so tightly sewn into his face. Thor retrained himself from jogging. He unlocked his room and walked in, inviting Steve to follow and walking to his cabinets. There was paper in the treasury, but he knew he had some of Loki’s old leather-bound notebooks. He dug out a few worn novels and set them on the floor, rummaging deeper.

Steve wandered to his side and picked the book off the top of the pile, opening the front cover. “You like astronomy?”

“My brother did,” Thor grunted, nudging aside more items stuffed away. “You can read?”

“Yeah, my ma taught us,” Steve nodded, leafing through the pages in Thor’s  peripheral .

“Do you like astronomy?” Thor asked, pausing to glance up. Steve looked up from the pages he was skimming to make eye-contact.

“Never learned much about it,” he shrugged. “But I like stars. They’re interesting.”

“Keep it,” Thor insisted, nudging the pile closer. “Anything you like. They’re just gathering dust.” 

Steve’s eyes widened a fraction, and Thor grinned at him before plunging back into his search. He felt tantalizingly close.

Aha! Thor pulled out a couple of leather-bound books and flipped through them. A few were filled with Loki’s beautiful handwriting, but he found one with only a couple of used pages. The rest were blank. Thor put the others away and marched proudly to his desk to retrieve a charcoal pencil.

The bright glow in Steve’s eyes was worth its weight in gold. The other man reached out with careful fingers to take his gift. A little smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, and even though it didn’t quite succeed in curling his lips, the joy was visible in his eyes. Thor smiled quietly to himself as he bent to gather the books off the floor. Steve turned on his heel and raced off, lithe legs carrying him at an extraordinary pace. Thor carried the books and followed.

They ended up in Steve’s room. Steve went to the window, flipping open his new drawing book eagerly while Thor set the bundle of novels on the table by the wall. When he turned, Steve was already leaning on the windowsill, putting charcoal to paper, and starting to draw. Fascinated, Thor watched, holding his breath.

Steve made one shaky line, bits of charcoal crumbling off as he pushed harder than intended, and seized. He was very still, the bright joyful flame gone from his eye, gone from his posture, his expression plummeting into dismay, then into frustration and despair as he tried again and the line was no smoother. The book and charcoal fell from his hand to the floor, and Thor’s own pride at his success shattered.

He walked over and bent to gather the fallen items. “It’ll get better,” he promised, straightening and facing the other man. “A wound like that won’t heal right away. It could take weeks, or months, but you will heal.” He’d tried to avoid mentioning Steve’s condition, but there was no way round it now. Steve was staring at his shaking hands, lost as he was yesterday over his friend’s grave. There were tears gathering in his eyes, but he was clearly doing his best not to shed them. Thor admired his strength and stubbornness. “Try again,” he suggested gently.

“Can’t,” Steve whispered, as if a voice any louder would crack the barrier holding back his emotions building behind. “I can’t do it.” A lonely tear escaped.

“You will,” Thor promised, reaching out to gently pat Steve’s neck, feeling the urge to offer further comfort. A hug, something. “It might take time, and practice, but you will. They won’t take this from you.” 

Steve clenched his hands into fists, and his arms shook with  effort as he squeezed, gritting his teeth. He turned away and wiped his eyes, shivering.

“Don’t rush yourself,” Thor advised kindly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you distress.”

Steve immediately shook his head, his voice quiet. “N-no, not your fault. Just  tryin’a help.”

With a burdened heart, Thor watched the other man quietly try to gather himself together. Drawing was obviously something very important to him. Not knowing what would be appropriate to do, Thor hung back politely, yearning to approach, to touch. Steve leaned on the window for support and gazed out with lost eyes.

Royal duties called, but Thor couldn’t bear to leave Steve alone. He opened his mouth lamely, mulling over ways to keep the two of them together, but Steve beat him to it, sinking against the windowsill with a submissive huff. “I remember what the sky looked like,” he said quietly. “Where they made us fight each other. I could see two of the turrets.”

The implications of that took a moment to settle. Thor’s expression opened with realization. “Could you show me which two?” He was already pacing for the door. Steve swiveled, latching onto this new purpose and using it to hold himself together at the seams. He wiped his eyes with his hand and followed, squaring his shoulders with determination and jogging along faster than could be safe. They ended up outside, staring up at the turrets above. Steve was squinting, out of breath from their short jaunt, scanning the skies with a hand to his brow.

“That one,” Steve panted, pointing, “and that. I’m pretty sure.” He moved to line them up the way he’d seen them, and Thor came to stand behind him. Then he turned one-eighty. It was almost perfectly North of the castle.

It was something to work with. “You’re amazing,” Thor blurted, clapping Steve on the back of the neck and taking his lanky arm in his hand. “We must add it to the map, come on.” He trailed Steve after him, careful to keep a pace the other man could match and restraining his legs from zooming him there like they wanted.

They burst into the planning room, advisors and generals all looking up as their king entered.

“Thor,” Natasha started to come  round , glancing at Steve. Thor went straight for the map, guiding Steve to his side by the shoulders and reaching for a chess piece.

“We have a base somewhere in this direction,” he announced proudly, setting down the piece. “How high above the treetops were the turrets?” he turned to Steve.

“Um...” Steve glanced around at the people watching him. “Up to the bottom of the slant,” he explained.

Everyone was watching. Thor dragged back the chess piece, making calculations in his head as to how far away you would have to be to see just that much turret over the treetops. It would only be a rough estimate, but he could guess from his own past journeys. That new positioning put the base Steve had escaped from several degrees away from where they’d guessed, and a bit closer.

Steve was still panting at his side, pale and staring at the map before him. Nobody spoke.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” Thor patted Steve’s arm. “I was excited. This information helps us a great deal.”

Steve waved a hand. “It’s alright. Are these all HYDRA?” he pointed at the black piece closest to him.

His finger wasn’t anywhere near close enough to touching, but one of his advisors snapped out his hand and batted Steve’s away. “Don’t touch,” he snapped. “What is he doing here?” Eyes rose from the inquisitive blonde staring with horror at the spread of HYDRA up to the king who had brought him here, to this private meeting.

Thor wasn’t free to glare in this setting, but he so badly wanted to. “This is Steve. He is an honored guest in this castle.”  _ And  _ _ therefore _ _ you will treat him as such.  _ He kept his tone level, but there was no hiding the warning creeping into it.

“The escaped HYDRA prisoner,”  Stane came closer and held out his hand, peering down at Steve as if observing a prize at the market. Thor had always felt he was a little too friendly with his father, a little too eager to proclaim that he was ‘only doing what he thought was best for the kingdom, and for the family’, that he always had their ‘best interests in mind’. On the other side of the table, Natasha watched with a deliberately neutral expression, Clint by her side pretending to inspect his fingernails with boredom while his eyes flicked surreptitiously around those gathered at the table.

Steve took the hand and shook it firmly, unwavering under the stares bearing down on him. Thor could see a slight tremor of stress in his back though, could feel it as he kept one hand pressed firmly to the other man’s arm in support for him, and a warning for others.

“Welcome,” Obadiah gave a smile, lingering on the handshake for a second too long. “I wonder if Lord Thor perhaps dragged you here too soon? I must say you look a bit grey.” The comments were given in a light-hearted tone, but Steve had gone rigid and was pulling back his hand as hastily as possible without looking it.

“Steve is healing very well,” Thor butted in, firmly meeting Obadiah’s eyes and holding his gaze.  _ I’d be careful what you say to him. You could fool my father, but I know you’re after more than just a place of trust at the king’s side. You always wanted more. You will not pit him against me. _

“Well it’s good to see a victim shaking off the coils,” Obadiah nodded, and Steve’s slight increase in respirations was only for Thor to notice.

“Good meeting everyone,” Natasha butted in. “But the soldiers are waiting. We should get down to the grounds. Are you still going to join in the training, Thor?”

“Of course,” Thor nodded, tearing his gaze away from Obadiah and the other watching advisors. It had been a mistake to bring Steve here.

“Steve is coming too, I presume,” Natasha gave Steve a friendly smile.

“If he likes,” Thor agreed, staring down at the other man and hoping he was alright, that those comments hadn’t harmed him –

“Okay,” Steve agreed, looking up at Natasha and nodding, giving her a small smile in return. “Can I... Can I grab something first?” He seemed more hesitant of himself than the others by his request, nervously rubbing the knuckles on his index finger.

“We’ll meet you there,” Natasha agreed, and left the room with Clint on her heels. Not before either of them could give quick glances to the other advisors, though.

Thor pushed his way out of the room without another word to him, shielding Steve protectively and guiding him to the door. He had never felt so desperate to get out of this room.  _ I already made one mistake this morning. I hope this one isn’t too detrimental... _

But Steve was walking toward his room with head held high and a firm jaw. He unlocked his door and walked inside, reappearing with his sketchbook and pencil held tightly in his grip. His eyes were bright and determined. The smile he gave Thor was real. “Okay, let’s go.”

Thor beamed proudly back.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've seen some interesting theories and I'm looking forward to see how those progress as the story progresses. I'm very slowly working on drawings too :) lots of good stuff to come, I promise B)
> 
> As always, endlessly appreciative of comments and feedback! It brings me great joy to hear what you think. Thank you for your support so far <3

Thor definitely wasn’t normal. Steve sat in the grass in a warm patch of sun, watching the king and his two friends training their soldiers. All three of them were impressive, but Thor in a different way. It was difficult to pin exactly how. He never seemed to tire, at least, despite moving around as much as the others. The sword looked lighter in his hand.

Weight was a tricky thing to draw, to capture the balance of an image in the subtleties of flexed or lax muscles, in the creases of skin. Right  now though, everything was tricky to draw; Steve fought to stop his hand shaking, struggling to make his usual smooth lines. If he moved  faster he could get rid of the wobbliness, but the lines were too heavy, and he couldn’t seem to grip his utensil any lighter without dropping it altogether. It was maddening, but he forced himself to keep trying.  _ I’m not a victim.  _ That word made him sick. Stubbornly, Steve grit his teeth and tried once again to rough out the shape of Thor’s arm and the sword clutched in his large hand.

“Whatcha drawin’?” Clint sat down beside him, a hand lightly pressed over his side. He peered at the page.

“Nothing,” Steve turned a little sharper than intended so he could shield his book from the man. He didn’t want anyone to know how hard he was struggling. The pain he felt from twisting was enough to cause his muscles to contract and lock. His arms went rigid, and he dropped the book and pencil.

“Ah, sorry,” Clint scratched his head, glancing at the open pages but saying nothing. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“ S’okay ,” Steve quickly shut the book and pushed it away.  _ I’m not a victim. I’m not a victim. I’m not- _

“So,” Clint leaned back on his hands, a small wince tugging at his face. “You  gonna stay here, then?”

“I guess,” Steve replied, watching Thor as he shed his jacket and called forward a soldier. The king faced off against a fully-armored warrior, and they crossed blades. Natasha kicked them off, and Thor rolled the blade in his hand, parrying the soldier with speed unlike Steve had ever seen. He didn’t know much about fighting, but he could tell Thor was on another level to his men. He was much faster, and his blows had more force behind them.

“Somethin’ else, isn’t he,” Clint nudged his arm. Steve nodded. “You should see him in a real fight. It’s even more impressive.”

Steve was certain it was. As he tried to think of the best way to ask why Thor was different without being rude, the commander stood up with a grunt and held out his hand.

“I’ll show you something  _ really  _ impressive, if you want,” Clint grinned.

Not sure he could decline, Steve nodded and took the hand, grateful for the distraction from his failing artwork, even if part of him wanted to sit and watch Thor fight. Clint led him to a series of targets nailed to a wood structure, choosing a bow and quiver off the rack nearby. He walked a good distance from the targets, notched an arrow, and drew back the string. Steve watched, enraptured.

Clint let loose. The arrow sailed straight into the center of the middle target with a satisfying smack. Steve opening his mouth to express his amazement, but Clint was already pulling out a second arrow and twirling it once between his fingers. He loaded it and fired, and it split the first into pieces. Proudly, Clint turned to give a grin.

“Wow,” Steve breathed.

“Here,” Clint held out the bow. “Give it a go.”

Without thinking, Steve took it. He wrapped his hand around the grip and accepted the arrow passed to him, sliding the string into the notch. Just like Clint had done, he started to pull back with two fingers. He didn’t get far; the bow was too stiff for him to bend, and he couldn’t lift his arms high enough to aim. They shook under the strain, but he still pulled back as hard as he could, until the pain was too much.

“It takes practice,” Clint gave him a reassuring and slightly apologetic smile, taking the bow and arrow back as Steve handed it over. “This is a stiff bow. I can find you a looser one.”

“It’s okay,” Steve shook his head. “Can’t see the target that well anyway.” It was too blurry.

A thought passed through Clint’s brain and across his face as he thought it, but he said nothing on it, simply nodding and gesturing the group they’d wandered from. “We can try again another time, maybe.”

If he could put muscle on, Steve might have nodded with optimism. Instead, he nodded out of politeness, grateful for the effort. He gave Clint a smile and followed him back to the others.

\--

“Can I come in?” Bruce tapped on his doorframe, peering in.

Steve glanced over his shoulders, sat on his bed with his drawing book in his lap turned to an empty page, and nodded. The doctor entered and shut the door behind him.

“I thought I’d ask you to try these,” Bruce pulled the glasses off his face and handed them over. “See if they help. You’re short-sighted, aren’t you.”

Steve frowned, taking the glasses from the doctor. “Did Clint tell you?”

“Thor did, actually,” Bruce replied. “Clint told him, and he asked me to see what I could do.”

“It’s alright, really,” Steve carefully slid the glasses onto his nose. “Not much I’ve ever needed to see anyway...” His thoughts trailed off as he looked up, and his eyes landed on the window.

The world looked a lot sharper. It was still blurry around the edges, but he could see so much  _ more.  _ Had there always been this much world to see at once? “Is that better?” Bruce was smiling at him, calm and kind. Steve nodded, getting up and walking to the window. The doctor let him. “I’ll have some lenses made and you can pick which ones help best.”

“Thank you,” Steve turned and handed the glasses back to their owner.

“You’re welcome,” Bruce put his glasses back on, a soft smile lingering on his face as he turned and left the room.

\--

He’d held out for a long while, admirably long. Their goading only strengthened his resolve and tightened his tongue against the pain fighting to force out a scream.

But eventually, as the pain started to win, he’d let loose. First had come a small whine, and after that he‘d lost all ability to restrain himself. An animal cry had wrenched itself from his throat, and the men had laughed, because they’d won.

They hadn’t won, not yet. They didn’t own him. This pain wouldn’t own him or end him, and they would never claim his soul. Steve fought. He’d been yanking on the chains round his wrists by  reflex as his body tried to get away from what was hurting it, but he pulled harder now.

Steve quickly lost track of time. It felt like he’d been here for hours, languishing under the torments of men who were enjoying themselves far too much.  Surely they would finish soon, get bored or run out of space. His whole back was burning.

_ Almost _ all of it. The poker pressed into the soft, sensitive flesh of his side, and he blacked out. 

When he opened his eyes, everything was quiet save for his own raspy breathing interspersed with rough sobs, and the crackling of dying embers. Steve looked around, doing his best not to breathe lest the swell of his ribs spread apart the trenches burned in his skin. He felt damp and sticky.

The door was opening. Steve jumped at the sound, whimpering as his back protested. He couldn’t think, could hardly see through the dance of colored spots and the black tunneling. He was losing himself again, but that was fine; he wouldn’t have to be in pain if he was unconscious. If they were coming back for another round, he didn’t want to feel it.

“Stevie...” Distinctly not the enemy. Those weren’t the enemy’s hands clasping his face either, wiping away tears with careful thumbs. “Aw Stevie, come on, look at me. You’re alright. I’ll make sure you’re alright. Take care of  ya , like always, right? You an’me.”

Bucky was fiddling with the chains, unlocking the cuffs and carefully lowering his arms one at a time. Without his restrains, there was nothing to hold him up, and he collapsed forward. He had nothing to give. Bucky kissed his hair and clasped the back of his neck for a moment, holding him tightly into his chest. Steve was drifting away again, but he tried to keep his eyes open, for Bucky.

“It’s okay, Stevie,” Bucky  voice’s lulled him, gave him somewhere to go other than here. “Hang on for me, got it?”

Steve was too far gone to wake himself up. He had nothing to work with, but he would try to hang on. He’d always tried, and so  far it had worked, so he would keep trying. Bucky moved him, pulling a shirt over his head and pulling it down to cover his wounded back. The last thing he remembered was his friend picking him up, promising to get him to safety.

But this time, he awoke back on the rack, instead of at the castle where he should have. Steve’s eyes flew open, and he was strung up again. There was no escape. He would be tortured over and over again, until he woke up.

When he managed to tear himself from the nightmare, he almost couldn’t tell; his back hurt like the wounds were fresh, instead of over a week old. His throat was raw and his cheeks damp. Steve shivered under his blankets, shielding himself with them while he waited for his back to stop hurting.

It took a while for his body to remember it was here instead of in that HYDRA prison camp. Steve wiped his eyes and swallowed, taking slow and deliberate breaths to combat the panic attack climbing through his breastbone. Eventually, the wave passed, and he descended back into the real world. Steve lay on his side for a moment, but he couldn’t shut his eyes.

Steve climbed out of bed, folding back the covers and grabbing his shirt. The tremor in his hands was worse than normal, and he struggled with the garment. He glanced at the book and pencil on the small table by his bed.  _ Hold on. Keep trying.  _ Steve picked it up and took it with him into the cool night air.

It was getting easier to move with each day that passed. His gait was steadier, and he could turn a little, now that the shallower marks were starting to scar. Bruce’s medicines  were working. They’d beaten back the infection, too, which he was certain should have killed him if nothing else. Steve wandered down the steps and around to the pathway, watching his feet.

Soft music carried to his ears the closer he got to the graveyard. Steve looked up once he realized it was familiar. The tune wasn’t quite the same, but it returned to similar notes and followed a similar cadence. Thor. Steve brushed through the flower fields and climbed the hill, glancing at Bucky’s grave as he passed it and searched for the king. There, the shaft of his instrument, peeking out behind a headstone.  _ Frigga. Wife, mother, protector.  _ _ Asgard’s _ _ greatest warrior,  _ Steve read the headstone.  _ Thor’s mother.  _ He would presume, at least. Steve walked over and looked down. Thor was there, in a loose grey shirt, his long wavy golden hair a little mussed from sleep. His instrument was clasped in his lap, and he was slumped against the stone.

“Hey,” Steve offered lamely, and when the king looked up, his cheeks glinted faintly in the dim light.

“Hey.” Thor smiled at him, then turned to look out at the sky, and the forest beyond the castle walls.

“What are you doing out here?”  _ It’s his kingdom. He can go where he wants. _

Thor shrugged and wiped his cheek with his hand, scratching his nose to mask what he was doing. He scratched his other cheek in a second attempt to be surreptitious. “Enjoying the cool breeze. And you?”

“Come to see the stars,” Steve agreed, sitting in the dirt and putting his sketchbook in front of him. He folded his legs and rested his arms in his lap, looking up to watch the sky.

They sat there together, Thor holding his mandola tightly against his chest. Steve wondered if he should have addressed the king more formally, but he was still having a hard time remembering Thor  _ was _ a king. Not because he didn’t look it, or that he wasn’t noble, but because he just didn’t act like one. His demeanor was too kind and open, too sensitive and personal. Kings could be those things, but surely those traits were meant to be kept hidden under a more... professional exterior. Then again, Steve hadn’t seen enough of Thor to make a conclusion on his rulership.

“Can’t sleep?” Thor turned to look at him again, his face dry and concern in his eyes.

Steve sighed. “Bad dreams. Back’s sore. You?” He didn’t want to talk about it. The king didn’t push.

Thor’s shoulders lifted as he huffed, smiling sadly up at the crescent moon above. “There’s a war coming, and I’m not prepared for it. Strategy was never my forte, and now I have to protect an entire kingdom. If I knew what I was working with, it would help.” He patted the space beside him and turned his gaze. “Here, sit,” he offered kindly.

Steve sat gratefully, glancing over. “HYDRA?”

Thor nodded. “They’re flanking our kingdom, I know it. How best to stop them, I don’t know.” He sighed and rested his head against the stone at his back, closing his eyes. “My brother would have known... He was always much cleverer that me. And Mother. He got that from her. My father would have had the courage to make sacrifices, at least.”

They were gone, then. These three headstones grouped a little closer than the others were his family. Steve felt the urge to tip a bit closer, for all his comfort was worth. He leaned in a bit, until their shoulders were touching. Thor didn’t move away.

“I need to send out scouts,” Thor rubbed his face, frustration starting to rise in his expression. “We’ve already lost a soldier. Many more will die in this war, and I know that if I take risks  now we may not lose so many... But I can’t stand the feeling of sending out men knowing they might die for the task I gave them.”

It was a tough conundrum: deliberate sacrifice now to reduce inevitable deaths later. Steve nodded in commiseration. “I don’t think I’ve ever had to make a decision like that...”

“You’ve bargained your life for another,” Thor smiled at him. “You told me about trying to help that boy. You could have killed him.”

Steve shook his head. “Killing him wouldn’t have saved anybody. There wasn’t a greater good to weight his life against.”

“Still, you spared him, and risked your life for it.”

Steve shrugged and looked at his boots. “I’d rather he’d killed me than if I’d had to live with the guilt of killing him instead.”

“Perhaps not a tough choice, but a brave one,” Thor praised, determined. “I must make a similar choice, but I’m not sure I have the strength for it.”

“Not wanting people to die doesn’t make you weak,” Steve looked back over. “It just makes your job harder. I would imagine, anyway...”

“That it does,” the king replied, his new smile touched. It faded away as he continued to speak his mind, eyes glued to the sky as if answers might be there. “I fear the guilt and grief of losing good men who have pledged to me their loyalty. It’s my responsibility to protect them. I know the guilt will be far worse if I do nothing and wait for  war to come to us, but I can’t be truly satisfied with the sacrifices that seem apparently necessary when I weight everything in my head.”

Steve wasn’t sure why they were here talking like this, or why Thor was even listening to him, but the king was, so Steve gave his thoughts. “I don’t know how things work here, but your men chose to fight for you, didn’t they?” The king nodded slowly. “Then they made their choice. Pretty good way to go, fighting HYDRA so other people might get to live a safe life.” It must be tough, having to make choices like that. Steve wondered how often Thor had to weight up people’s lives.

“I know that everyone is right, that I should send out more scouting parties,” Thor sighed. “I should trust my men. I risk more by doing nothing than by sending them.”

Here on this hill, in the middle of  Asgard , they were trapped in their own little sanctuary. It felt like nothing could touch them. Or, it should. Steve knew the ruthless, bloodthirsty claws of HYDRA would eventually lust for this kingdom and try to drench its white towers in red. His back ached, and Thor looked forlorn and weary of spirit.

Steve turned his body, sitting up a bit straighter and  reaffirming eye contact. “Thank you. For saving me,” he said. “And for giving me a place to live.”

“Brave warriors deserve no less,” Thor smiled at him in the moonlight, and it was a sad smile, but it was also a proud one. “This kingdom is meant for people like you. It should be a sanctuary for all who oppose HYDRA.”

And Steve smiled back, because of all the words that had ever been used to describe him, ‘warrior’ had never been one of them. “Thank you for taking care of Bucky,” he added. “As a final resting place, this is pretty good.”

“He will be honored as he should be,” Thor agreed. “Among other brave warriors like him.”

They sat in the graveyard together, and it was peaceful. Steve felt the coils of regret and guilt start to loosen, and he knew Bucky would have wanted him to be happy. He’d been given a gift, and it was only right to accept it in good grace. That meant doing his very best to honor his friend’s decision, and make the best of his new life. That life would have been better if Bucky were here to enjoy it with him, but Steve contented himself with the fact that at least Bucky wouldn’t have to live through a war.

Strings were disturbed beside him, vibrating softly as Thor adjusted the instrument in his lap and reaffirmed his grip. He positioned his fingers along the neck, strumming a few experimental notes until he found the pattern he wanted. Steve listened, and the music took him away. While Thor played, he opened his book and picked up the pencil, forcing himself to make a shaky mark on the clean page before him.

\--

Steve woke up wrapped in Thor’s jacket. It was morning, warm sun cast on one side of his face. He was sitting, rested against Thor’s side, his head on the king’s firm shoulder. Given their difference in size, Thor was tipped substantially over to allow for Steve’s comfortable positioning. His sketchbook rested on the closed mandola case by Thor’s outstretched leg.

The king was asleep, his chest swelling in powerful gusts. Steve shifted nervously, stretching out his body. He was surprised to find he wasn’t at all stiff, though his leg had fallen asleep. Thor’s red leather jacket was baggy on his shoulders, warm and smelling of clean mountain water and pine. Steve drew it tightly around himself, comfortably enveloped. He didn’t want to move, but he knew he had to. Surely this wasn’t appropriate, not that he felt uncomfortable. Were kings supposed to get this cuddly with their subjects? Oh well, there was no-one around to see.

Thor was stirring, stretching out with a loud groan and blinking sleep from his eyes. He frowned briefly as he remembered where he was, then looked over. The king gave him a cheerful smile. “Good morning,” he shifted away and offered his hands to help Steve stand up. “I apologize... You fell asleep to the music and looked content. I didn’t want to move you.”

Steve flushed. “N-no, it’s okay, I didn’t fall asleep on you, did I?”

“No, I thought you’d be more comfortable there than on the ground,” Thor explained. “I hope that’s alright.”

“Yeah, yeah it’s fine,” Steve pushed the jacket off his shoulders and handed it over. “Uh, here. Thanks.”

“Of course,” Thor accepted back the garment, draping it over his arm and bending to pick up his instrument case. He handed over the sketchbook. “How are you feeling?”

“A lot better,” Steve nodded truthfully. He had a feeling this lingering sensation of weakness might never dissipate, but that was alright. He’d never been totally healthy anyway.

“That’s good to hear,” the king agreed. “You look much better. You’ve come a long way since you arrived.”

Steve smiled at that. Thor escorted him to the infirmary where Bruce was waiting, bidding goodbye and promising to check in later when he was done with his duties. The king’s hand patted his shoulder, sturdy but gentle. Still, it was a firm pat. Steve appreciated that, smiling to himself as he sat where Bruce directed and set aside his drawing book on the bed beside him. The doctor set up his supplies and let Steve get his shirt off on his own. It was getting easier.

“Been drawing?” Bruce nodded to the book, loosening the bandages.

“Trying to,” Steve admitted, staring at his hands in his lap. They were still shaking. He wondered if it would ever go away. Was it because his system was further damaged by sickness, and had made him unstable? Had the brand done physical damage to more than just his skin? He knew some of the burns were deep against his spine. Or maybe the trauma by itself was to blame, and this was more emotional than physical. Steve wasn’t sure.

At least the pain was getting better. His skin didn’t feel so torn and exposed when the bandages came off. Everything was at least scabbed over, even the deeper tears. He could feel his skin pulling itself together, and it was starting to itch. Bruce’s remedies were doing wonders though. The cool application of herbs eased the more harshly inflamed areas, and no longer stung in open wounds.

“Bruce...?” Steve glanced over his shoulder, coughing lightly.

“Yes?” the doctor paused his work.

“What... what does it look like?”

There was a long pause, filled with tense silence as Bruce prepared his answer and Steve contemplated whether or not he actually wanted to hear it. “It’s healing,” he  doctor started tentatively. “Slowly, but it is. You’ll scar, Steve, there’s no pretending you won’t. It looks like some of this won’t completely scar over, either. It’ll probably be sore for the rest of your life.”

Yeah, he’d figured as much. Steve stared at the wall, feeling strangely at ease with that fact. It wasn’t as if this grotesque scar would detract from his natural beauty. It wasn’t going to hinder his chances of settling down with someone and starting a family, given there was about no chance of that anyway. Not that he’d ever thought much about the potential to find a wife and make a life for himself. Regardless of his future, this scar wasn’t going to suddenly make him ugly. His tender skin ached, and he wanted to ask Bruce what HYDRA had drawn on his skin, but he decided against it. Maybe later.

“How does it feel?” the doctor asked, reaching for new bandages.

“Itchy,” Steve admitted. “Still sore.” He still couldn’t get his arms above shoulder height, but overall he was feeling better.

“Good, that means it’s healing,” Bruce smiled and started to cover his back. He didn’t wrap the layers as heavy as before, and Steve supposed that was a good thing, though he’d like the comforting, protective pressure hiding away the mark from the rest of the world. It had been a safety barrier.

At least he could move better. Steve stood up and put on his shirt, thanking the doctor. The distant clangs of metal caught his attention, and he walked to the window as he adjusted his shirt. A ways below, on the other side of the pathway, was the training grounds. He could see a head of foxy red hair – Natasha? - stood before a small group of soldiers, training with them. That other person watching was probably Clint, then. Across the dirt strode Thor, unmistakable by his long, confident stride and strong shoulders. Not to mention his golden hair. He was dressed in a red cloak now, and it flowed out behind him as he walked. Even so far away to Steve’s limited eyesight, that still couldn’t be anyone but Thor.

“I feel like I should be doing something,” Steve murmured, half to himself.

“You’re welcome to help me,” Bruce suggested as he put away his supplies. “There aren’t usually many patients, but I’ve got lots of books you can study, and you can help me keep my medicine stocked, if you want to.”

That sounded alright. Better than lounging around in his room, either struggling to draw or struggling to rest. Steve had been sick enough times to know that sometimes you just had to get back on your feet, get some sun and fresh air. Here would be safe and somewhat familiar, and he like Bruce. He trusted him.

Thor was joining Natasha, drawing the sword strapped to his waist and shedding his cloak. The red fell from his body and crumpled in the grass, leaving his armored body to glint in the sun. Steve wished he were a bit closer so he could watch, or at least better see the armor the king was wearing. So far, he’d only seen Lord Thor in his casual attire. As he watched the soldiers start their training routine, he knew what he wanted to do.

HYDRA wasn’t defeated yet. Steve was a warrior, and there was still fight left in him. There were still people trapped in HYDRA’s prisons, enduring tortures as he had. His previous ailments had never stopped him from fighting, and a couple of new ones wouldn’t either. No-one was exempt from war. If  Asgard was attacked, nobody would be spared.  _ HYDRA doesn’t win until it takes all of us, body and mind, and there’s nobody in their way. Least I can do is add one more soul for them to deal with.  _ Besides, Thor had said this was his home now, therefore it was his duty to fight for his kingdom.  _ For what I believe in.  _ Not an entity, or the overarching ideals of government. He would do it because it was right.

He turned to look at Bruce, and the determination in eyes gave the doctor pause, his arm freezing mid-air as he organized his shelves. “I’d like to help, if I can,” Steve agreed.

“Here,” the doctor nodded, gathering a couple of books from his desk and passing them over. They were thick and full of loose sheets of paper covered in scrawls. The bound pages themselves were covered in notes as well. “Start reading through those for the time being.”

“Thank you,” Steve smiled, taking the books to the bed he’d been borrowing previously and sitting on the neatly-spread covers. He crossed his legs and opened the first book in his lap. Until he could think of a way to get himself into those soldiers’ ranks, he could at least make himself useful.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the feedback, as usual <3
> 
> I hope to get some more drawings done, too, school providing. As always, I post thundershield stuff on [my tumblr](https://stormyandrescuer.tumblr.com/), some of which I don't put in my stories ;)

It became a routine, meeting up in the graveyard late at night. After a couple of days, Steve stopped trying to fall asleep in his own bed altogether and went straight outside, sketchbook in-hand. Sometimes Thor got there first, or joined him later, but he always came, usually with his mandola. They didn’t always play and draw, sometimes preferring just to sit and chat, or observe the sky in silence.

Steve’s hands still shook too badly to make decent lines, but he did his best not to get discouraged, persevering. He could manage the rough outline of a subject, but couldn’t muster the fine motor skills necessary to sketch the smaller details like facial features. It probably wouldn’t go away, or at least not for a while. That was alright. Life was starting to feel normal. He spent most of his day with Bruce, helping him organize his shelves, keep the room clean, or make mixtures when they needed to be topped up. Bruce showed him how to make his own medicines, and Steve was happy to learn. The doctor often left him to administer his own doses when they were needed, and he really appreciated that.

Sometimes there wasn’t much work to do, so he took a chair to the window and sat down to read through the manuscripts and journals Bruce provided. There was so much to learn, and he silently thanked his mother for teaching him how to read and write every time he opened one of the worn texts.

His back was getting better and better. Bruce still unwrapped it every morning and applied salves, but the scabs were starting to fall off, leaving melted skin behind. Parts of it were still red and swollen, no matter how sealed the skin over top, nor how much medicine Bruce determinately applied. Now that some parts of his skin were better healed, the bandages weren’t so thick, or so extensive. He could reach over and feel a few tendrils of scar curling over his shoulders, raised and bumpy, but oddly smooth. The brand had melted away the texture.

The sun was setting. Steve shouldered his jacket, gathering his book and pencil and heading outside. As usual, Thor was already there, sat by his mother’s grave with his mandola in his lap, staring up at the first star twinkling in the orange sky. He turned his head and gave Steve one of his usual warm smiles, his square face instantly softened. It was a beautiful smile, but it couldn’t mask the sadness often lingering beneath the surface, especially when he was out here in the graveyard.

“Good evening,” the king greeted, watching him sit. “You look much better today. I’m glad to see you looking so well.”

Steve smiled back. “Thanks. I thought I’d feel a lot worse, but I feel pretty good. Bruce took good care of me. And you.”

Thor chuckled, pink with pride in the dying light. Or maybe that was just the bright, bloody glow in the sky bouncing off his skin. “You sound surprised, my friend.”

Steve shrugged. “Never been that healthy. My immune system’s not that great.” It was a miracle the infection that had waltzed in through the huge, gaping opening of his back hadn’t been worse. It should have killed him. “I’ve been sick a lot. I don’t suppose this will help much.” He rubbed his shoulder somewhat mournfully. Winters had been tough before. Then again, here in  Asgard he would be warmer, better-fed, and would have access to more medicines. Maybe things would turn out better, even if his immune system had been further damaged.

But enough of that. Steve shook his head and pushed his forelock aside with his hand. He turned to face the prince, giving him a better look. “You, uh, okay?” Thor’s posture was more slumped than usual, his gestures more reserved and his eyes distracted. Steve frowned, concerned.

“Mother’s wisdom is missed more than usual,” Thor sighed. “I’ve sent out those scouts to gather more information, and my nerves are suffering. Word is that HYDRA has a skilled blacksmith in their custody, one who could make them better weapons and armor. The plan is to rescue him in the next couple of weeks, depending on what information the scouts return with.”

“Do you know where all the bases are yet?” Steve asked curiously. 

“We know of three,” Thor explained. “But there are likely more. Where is the question. I must coordinate search parties so as not to leave  Asgard undefended. But I must also gather information as fast as possible.”

“Sounds like a juggling act,” he sympathized.

“It is,” Thor smiled. “That is an apt description. What infuriates me the most is that I must remain here to give my orders, and to look after my people, instead of go and get the work done myself.”

“Nothing wrong with delegating,” Steve shrugged. “That’s what an army’s for, right?”

“I belong on the battlefield. It’s what I’m meant for,” the king sighed, thoughtfully pressing on the mandola strings with his fingers. “I’m a trained warrior. I belong out there fighting with my people instead of watching from the sidelines. I was a given a gift that is meant to be used.”

By a gift, did Thor mean his overall height and size? It didn’t appear that he did, but Steve couldn’t think of a good way to ask.

“The council wants me here, but I think it’s only so they can give their input,” Thor huffed dismissively, frustration seeping through in the gesture. “Perhaps they want to know my plans, keep me nearby so they know my strategy.”

Now that was a bold statement, one Steve wasn’t sure he should be hearing. He had no authority, no status. And Thor was being quite open about his thoughts, as usual, making no effort to mask what he thought. It was too late to unhear it, though. “You think the court is manipulating you,” Steve raised his eyebrows, but not in doubt. He’d met those men, if only briefly, and all of them had rubbed him the wrong way.

“They think me a boy that can be toyed with,” Thor agreed, his eyes darkening. “I do not trust them.”

A court full of untrustworthy advisors? Steve frowned. “But you trust me.”

The king chuckled again, nodding. “Some might accuse you of being a HYDRA spy, but I know that isn’t true. I may be too big of a fool to win a war, but I’m not blind.”

Steve smiled at that. “Not knowing what to do doesn’t make you a fool,” he countered  gently, but without any doubt. “I’d say it’s fools who jump right in. If all you do is think about the best option, you’re probably pretty smart. Bein’ smart means  keepin ’ your eyes open and always looking for the best solution.” Steve raised a teasing eyebrow. “That’s pretty much all you do.” 

Thor’s laugh was deep and pure, reserved but genuine. His eyes sparkled with praise, and his posture unfolded. “I hope my constant pondering doesn’t bother you.”

“Not at all,” Steve smiled. “I’ve never met any kings, but I don’t think you’d be like any of them if I had.”

Thor quirked his eyebrow at that, his head tipped a bit to the side curiously.

Steve shrugged. “You care about your people. Genuinely, every single one of them. I don’t think I’ve seen anybody who cares that much.”  _ I’ve not met many people so open with me, either. The kind of friends you have speaks volumes about you. Bruce, Clint, Natasha...  _ All three plus Thor had shown Steve nothing but hospitality and respect.

“You are very kind,” Thor’s smile was gentle. “But leadership was never what I was cut out for. My brother would have made a much better king. He understood rule like I never will, and he was strong enough to reason with the need for sacrifice. I don’t have the courage he had to make tough decisions.”

“ Nothin ’ wrong with caring about people,” Steve replied quietly, reaching out an encouraging hand and squeezing the king’s knee in a bold gesture of comfort. When it was just the two of them out here, titles didn’t matter.

Thor seemed like he needed it, anyway. He wrapped his fingers around Steve’s and squeezed. “You are kind and brave, and very strong,” he said with admiring eyes. "I envy your resolve.”

Steve  _ did _ have resolve, the resolve to keep fighting. That was why would start fighting the second he got these bandages off his back.

“May I see your drawings?” Thor glanced at the book.

“Not much to see,” Steve sighed, but he handed the book over reluctantly, ashamed at the sight of his own shaky, aimless lines scattered about the page as Thor opened it. The king started at the first page, and flipped through.

He flipped and flipped through attempt after attempt, eyes flicking from each page full of persistent lines to the next. His eyes lit up at the sight of an actual attempt to form a shape, and Steve resisted shrinking with shame at his own pathetic drawings. Finally, Thor wound up at the last marked page, admiring the wobbly outline of a human profile, and  Asgard’s spires in the corner. “Your improvement is staggering,” he grinned.

All he saw was the difference between the first and last page, and Steve suddenly saw it too. Though still far from smooth, the lines were far less shaky than when he’d first started. There was more control in the strokes, more deliberate variation in pressure. He was getting better. Steve smiled proudly.

\--

As usual, Steve fell asleep to the sound of Thor’s mandola, and woke up wrapped in a jacket and gently positioned against the king’s larger, warmer body. He could never remember drifting off, no matter how hard he tried to stay awake. With the soothing music and Thor’s calm, protective presence at his side, he had no trouble getting the rest he needed. For now, the nightmares were kept at bay.

Thor escorted him to his room as usual, made sure he was well and had breakfast brought to him, then went off to take care of business with the council.

“Good luck,” Steve encouraged.

“Thank you,” Thor smiled gratefully, reluctantly taking his leave.

Steve ate his breakfast alone. He got changed, resisted the urge to scratch his healing back, and left for the infirmary. Bruce changed his bandages, and left him to prepare his own medicine and dust a few shelves. At lunch time, there was nothing left to do, so Steve left the infirmary to explore.

He wondered where Thor had ended up. Was he still trapped in agonizing negotiations with his council? If so, Steve hoped his other friends were there, Clint and Natasha, maybe others if there were any. He could ask tonight.

Steve looked forward to the evening. Spending time with Thor was peaceful. He thought about it as he walked to his room for his sketchbook.  _ Makin’ friends, Buck, ma. With a king. I have a king for a friend, would you believe that? Don’t worry ‘bout me, alright? Be fine. Got a king  _ _ lookin _ _ ’ out for me.  _ And a doctor, and two generals.

Courageously, Steve walked along the hallways with his book in-hand, determined to make more progress today. In search of new subjects, he went looking for some paintings. He quickly found the one of Odin’s father fighting back the shadow elves and paused to admire it. The handiwork was stunning, but it was soured by the memory of Thor’s expression when he’d explained the scene. Steve moved onward.

There was some beautiful artwork hung on the walls, many depicting grand battles. He found more with Thor’s father as the subject, and others of kings long dead, presumably. All of them were painted to show a hero, wielding some kind of special weapon shining in a light always aimed on the king, while the shadows swallowed the enemy. Sometimes the current king was painted holding an object of some kind, usually in a way that suggested it was somehow magical. Though artistically impressive, Steve couldn’t find the enthusiasm to sketch any of these paintings. Not with Thor’s face in his head.  _ They’re just trinkets. _

He moved on, and found something much better: a woman, dressed in liquid blue and gold robes, one delicate hand raised, the other tightly grasping a sword. There was a calm smile on her face, and an intelligent glint in her eyes. Her stance was strong and balanced. Whoever had captured this had admired her. Steve stared in awe at her knowing smile and an eyebrow on the verge of quirking. In her face, he saw Thor’s kind eyes, his strong jaw line, and purposeful posture.  _ Thor’s mother. Frigga.  _ It had to be.

Steve was about to settle down to draw his new subject, but another painting caught his eye. Was that really who he thought it was...? He did a double-take, shuffled down the hallway, and looked up at the scene painted in vibrant colors. Sure enough, there was Thor in the middle of everything, swinging a huge and slightly oblong rock around and smashing it into the  hordes of blue-white humanoids crawling out of the snow and ice all around him. He was shirtless, the muscles in his arms and torso meticulously painted, shiny with sweat and blood. In the distance were  Asgard’s turrets, faint against the snow storm consuming a beautiful blue sky.

Steve stared at the painting for a long time, longer than he meant to. He stared at Thor’s glaring eyes, at the rock no person should be able to lift, let alone swing, clutched in his grip. Somehow, he didn’t think the depiction was an exaggeration, as many of these paintings seemed to be by at least a little. There were certainly other elements of the encounter that had been exaggerated, but not the rock. He could believe that, somehow.  _ There really is something different about you.  _ And not just with his body.

He’d found his drawing subject. Steve opened his book. It would be alright if he sat down here, right? There wasn’t much foot traffic through here –

The man approached from Steve’s left, his deaf side, and so he didn’t hear him, didn’t even see him in his peripheral vision he was so lost in the painting. An arm was suddenly thrown around his shoulders, aggravating his healing back. Steve grunted with pain and surprise, dropping his book and pencil and looking over.

The man from the council meeting was there, greeting him with an unsettling smile.  _ Stane _ _.  _ Steve remembered Thor calling him that.  Stane was close enough that Steve could hear him despite being on his deaf side. “Oh, I’m sorry. Let me get that.” Steve stood rigid as  Stane bent down to pick up the fallen items, never removing his touch. The advisor straightened and pushed the objects into Steve’s chest, giving his shoulder a pat. It was probably supposed to be playful, but the rough shake he gave was just uncomfortable. 

Steve tried to subtly and politely pull away, but the grip was too tight, and it tightened the second he resisted.

“Up and  at’um , good to see,”  Stane nodded, his face very close. “Healing up nicely, I hope?”

Steve nodded, opening his mouth.

“Good man,”  Stane clapped his on the shoulder blade heartily. “I wish there were more strong, smart kids like you around. Pretty impressive that you could remember anything from your stay with HYDRA.”

“Thank you, sir,” Steve replied evenly, making eye contact firmly. He didn’t flinch or draw back, even though he wanted to.

Stane patted him again. “You’ll make sure to let us know if you remember anything else, right?”

Steve gave one solid nod. “Of course.”

“That’s what I like to hear. And you’ll let us know if you need anything?” 

“Certainly,” Steve agreed.

Stane squeezed his shoulder and finally drew back. “See you around,” he smiled.

Steve watched him walk off, a deep chill in his spine and a renewed ache in his back. If Thor really was right, and his advisors couldn’t be trusted, then that had been a show on intimidation, a power move. Steve sat heavily on the ground and pressed his back to the cool stone wall with a wince. He wouldn’t be thrown off, not now. He opened his book to a fresh page and looked up at Thor’s painting, then down at his shaking hand. It was trembling more fiercely, with anxiety and pain. Steve grit his teeth and clutched his charcoal pencil tightly. He had to push through.

The first few strokes were wobbly and misplaced, veering off in a direction he didn’t want them to. Steve grit his teeth and kept going, working as lightly as he could manage. In the end, what he produced was adequate. It was messy and unrefined, but it was a recognizable shape. It actually looked like a man. There was some flow, too, the hint of movement within the stroke of the arms and the curve of the torso. It wasn’t his best work, but it was progress. Steve smiled proudly at it, flicking back to his first few attempts to draw again. Thor was right: the improvement was significant.

HYDRA wouldn’t take everything from him.

\--

The next morning, Steve found himself seated on his bed, pulling off his shirt. He left it behind and walked to the mirror in the corner.

It had been a long time since he’d seen the full length of his body, or even his own face. It was a bit shocking at first, the sight of his sharp cheekbones and bony shoulders. God, had his arms always been that thin? Or his skin that white? Steve raked back his forelock and stared into his own eyes. He took a few deep breaths, and turned.

It was tough to get the angle, but he managed. His heart stopped in his chest. He’d expected something terrible, but this was... He couldn’t have prepared himself for this. His back wasn’t just branded, it was branded with the  _ HYDRA symbol. _

_ Should have known. Should have seen that coming. Of course.  _ Steve could feel his tremor exacerbated by the sight of the angry pink and cream lines drawn into his skin. The HYDRA skull was glaring at him, tentacles wrapped possessively around his ribs, reaching down his waist and up his shoulders. Some of the lines had healed better than others, and he could clearly see which ones were hurting him, which ones would likely never stop hurting. Right now, all of it ached, every inch of damaged flesh.

It was hideous and violent. This would never fade. He would be marked by HYDRA for the rest of his life, however long that might turn out to be. The very symbol of evil was carved into his back. 

He wanted to throw something, cry, scream. He didn’t. He didn’t even fold under his weakening legs, or to the pain resurging. He couldn’t breathe. He needed his ma, Bucky, someone...

There was no-one. Steve was alone. Maybe that was for the better. The fewer people who saw this, the better. Steve shivered and limped to his bed, clumsily hurrying to get his shirt back on and hide away the monstrosity on his back. He grabbed his jacket and put that on too, shrinking into the warm fabric for security. Steve turned on his side and huddled on his bed.

He’d had big plans today. Why had he looked at his back? He should have waited, or never looked at all. That was stupid. Knowing what it looked like wouldn’t change anything. Steve wrapped his arms tightly around his body, fighting against the waking nightmare trying to take away his control.

_ HYDRA won’t own me. They won’t. I won’t let them. They can’t have me.  _ He was free. They’d never defeated him, even if their emblem was permanently stamped into him...  _ They don’t own me. I won’t let them take me. _

Steve thought to the music, scrambling for anything to ground himself to. He took his mind to the graveyard, to the soft brush of flower petals against his skin. He thought to Thor’s easy-going companionship and his sure fingers working the strings of his mandola. Thor claimed to be no musician, had explained he’d never learned when Steve had asked, but the man was clearly cut out for it. His sense of rhythm was perfect, his fingers light and quick. Thor could weave a beautiful melody from nothing. Steve could hear them in his head, and they swept him away from that dark prison lit only by the ominous orange glow from the fire.

He had things to do today. Steve set his jaw and rolled off the bed, pulling on his boots with determination. _Not today._ HYDRA wouldn’t win today, not against him. He was going to fight them with everything he had. He had no right to do anything less.

_ Off your ass, Rogers.  _ It was long past time he stopped grieving, for the people he’d lost and the mark on his back.  _ Time to do something about it.  _ Steve shrugged out of his jacket again and locked his door behind him. Bruce had no work for him today, so he was free. If he was right, then training would be starting soon. Steve had gotten up nice and early to get his wounds checked, and to have his dose of medicine. Today, he’d added a little something extra to help keep his airways clear. Miraculously, his asthma had been pretty mild since waking up.

Steve knew where the armory was. He’d done a bit of exploring with Thor at his side, and in his own time. He slipped into the room, which was currently full of men and women alike, all strapping themselves into armor. They paid him no mind as he snuck through in search of something that might fit. There had to be something... Some of the women were the same height as he was.

A few minutes later, he was decked out in leather armor, wooden training sword in-hand, and marching out with the others to form ranks in the sun. No-one stopped him.

The pressure on his back wasn’t too bad. With the leather properly cinched to his torso it wouldn’t rub. Steve stood tall, but not too tall, leaning sideways a bit as Natasha and Clint appeared at the head of the group. Steve steadied his breathing. He’d never used a sword before, and these were all trained warriors.  _ Best way to learn, to jump right in.  _ All these people looked nice enough, calmly awaiting instruction. It wasn’t them he was afraid of, though. No, it was that someone would recognize him and send him inside, deem him unfit.

“At ease,” Natasha ordered, and the ranks settled, shoulders loosening. “Pair up. We’ll practice close-quarters fighting today.”

Steve turned, and was glad to find he didn’t have to go hunting for a partner. The man next to him nodded and brandished his training sword. Bravely, Steve squared his jaw and mirrored the soldier’s stance. Wisely, he waited for his opponent to strike first.

The soldier swung his weapon with a flick of his wrist, sizing up his opponent as he did so. There was a flash of unfamiliarity in his eyes, but it was gone in an instant. Steve swung his sword around and whacked aside the  soldier’s with more force than expected by either of them. The soldier’s mild surprise provided a small opening, so Steve made proud use of it and struck out, swinging his sword at the soldier’s exposed side.

The hit didn’t land, but it came pretty close. The trained soldier blocked swiftly with his own weapon, then turned and delivered a kick into Steve’s exposed chest. A heavy boot collided with his borrowed armor and knocked him back. It wasn’t as hard as it could have been, as it would have been in a real fight, but it was enough to knock him over. Steve dropped his sword and fell with a grunt, landing painfully on his scarred shoulders. He wasn’t a match for these warriors, which had probably been apparent the moment he squared off to fight. But the soldier didn’t question him or rat him out. He just leaned over and offered his hand and a kind smile.

Steve coughed and accepted the help, undeterred. 

\--

Steve returned to his room dripping with sweat and worn out, but happy. He collapsed on his bed, chest heaving. He was going to be impossibly sore tomorrow, not to mention bruised, but it was worth it. Until someone noticed and kicked him out, he would keep at it

He fell asleep sprawled on the covers, and woke up under them.

Tentatively, he pushed them off and stepped to the floor with a groan. He  _ was _ sore, and his chest was mottled with bruising when he lifted off his shirt. Steve smiled proudly and got changed into clean clothes. Bruce was probably waiting for him by now.

The doctor didn’t have much work for him today, so Steve left for the training grounds again.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always for the feedback B) enjoy.

His men were due to return soon. Thor tried not to worry. There was nothing he could do until they brought back their information.

He hadn’t seen much of Steve lately. He’d been too busy. The other man hadn’t been meeting him in the graveyard lately either, which he supposed should be a good thing: that mean Steve was sleeping. Or, that’s what he hoped at least. Bruce seemed to be keeping him busy, so maybe he was getting worn out.

Good. That was good. It meant Steve was finding his place in the kingdom. Thor still missed the company though. Sometimes he headed up to the graveyard in the hopes that Steve might join him, or to provide company in case the other man was having trouble sleeping, but tonight Thor really couldn’t sleep. Anxiety bubbled in the pit of his stomach.

He missed his mother more than usual. Sometimes he dreamed about her, and his brother, and his father. Sometimes it was lonely, being in this position of power, even though he knew he should be grateful instead. It was tough to be part of a world you couldn’t  _ truly _ be part of. Without his family, he was alone in that.

Up here, he was physically alone too, so he was free. Thor sat down with his back to his mother’s gravestone and drew in his knees. It had been some time since he’d felt crippled by grief, when the absence of his family brought him to his knees. He tucked his head against his arms and imagined his mother’s gentle hand on the back of his neck, her strong fingers rubbing away the tension in his muscles. He tried to imagine what advice she would give him.

_ ‘There’s no shame in valuing life, Thor. Caring for each of your men is not weakness.’ _

_ ‘People die, Thor. They have pledged their lives to you, and it is a great honor to die for the great kingdom of  _ _ Asgard _ _. You must be strong enough to pay the cost.’  _ His father had never been that sympathetic of his on-going internal battle. 

And Loki? His brother would have teased him dryly about the whole thing, and insist they spend some time together. That would clear his head.

Dirt crunched under boots, and he stilled, holding his breath. The boots came closer and closer, then came to a stop. A hand landed lightly on his shoulder, long fingers clasping tense muscle.

“Hey.” Steve, asking gently.

Thor sighed and pulled his forehead off his knees, sniffing pathetically while trying to be casual. He was supposed to be a king, if not strong on the inside, then at least on the outside. He was supposed to be powerful and encouraging by presenting a strong figure for his people to find safety in. Steve’s losses were more recent, more significant, and shouldn’t be overshadowed by his which were long-passed –

Steve patted his shoulder and squeezed it, sitting down, sketchbook in-hand as usual. He set it down and kept his hand where it was. He stared up at the sky. “Yeah, I  miss’em too,” he whispered.

“Bit dusty,” Thor retorted quietly, rubbing his eye and staring intently at a drifting cloud.

Beside him, Steve chuckled. “Yup, pretty dusty. You need a cloth or something?”

“Nah,” Thor rubbed his eyes more furiously, determined to dry off his face.

“Breeze always makes my eyes water,” Steve commiserated, his flopped forelock buffeted in a light breeze. The wind was starting to get a bit colder. Summer was bleeding into Fall. “Sure you don’t need a handkerchief or somethin’?”

“I’m certain,” Thor smiled a little, sniffing.

Steve’s thumb rubbed in slow sweeps. “I haven’t been here that long, but I can say definitively you’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.” 

The king turned his head a bit, finally daring to make eye contact. Steve’s eyes were so blue, sparkling with reflected stars. There were a pair of glasses tucked in his shirt. Thor reached up and squeezed the hand on his shoulder, finding peace in the touch.

“What was your mother like?” Steve asked, shifting a little closer.

“Kind,” Thor rested his chin on his arms and looked back at the sky. “Wise, gentle, compassionate... She taught me to fight, and she taught me to love. No matter what, she was always there to encourage me. My father was... difficult. It was only with her patience and intervention that we didn’t fight more than we did. She was my father’s best advisor, and me and my brother’s best supporter.”

“She sounds like you,” Steve replied. “Kind, considerate, and I think you’re pretty wise too. You know that this war won’t be won just with swords, and you won’t let anyone push you around and force you to make decisions you don’t want to make. Sounds pretty wise to me. Sounds like your mom taught you well.”

Thor smiled, unable to contain the pride from pushing on his lips. A little heat rose in his face, and even though he was still unsure, Steve’s tone was enough to make him believe it, just a little. “Sounds like your mother taught you well, too.”

Steve just smiled and stayed close, rubbing his shoulder like he was born to do it. And Thor couldn’t turn him down; it felt too good, and he had to admit he’d needed it. Needed it for quite some time.

\--

It was another two days before the scouting party returned with information on the inventor held prisoner. To Thor’s relief, everyone was back safely.

“The base is highly-guarded,” the lead scout explained to the other gathered around the map in the planning room. “We managed to get inside, but there are a lot of guards, and the workshop where they’re keeping him is all the way at the top. There are a couple of windows, but they aren’t that big, and they’re barred. As far as we could tell, the whole structure is about five levels high.”

“How many entrances?” Thor shifted his weight and stared at the chess piece in question thoughtfully.

“Three that we could find,” the scout explained. “Two main entrances, plus a secret entrance we used to escape. There are probably more.”

“Good.” Thor straightened and scanned over his advisors and his friends. They stood to attention to listen. “I want a small party of twenty ready to leave by noon.”

“Your Highness?” Obadiah frowned. That was a lot of men for an extraction.

Thor’s gaze  darkened, images of Steve’s torn back plastered across his mind. Where they were going, there would be others like Steve, captives taken from villages now destroyed. HYDRA was arming children and forcing them to fight. Was forcing anyone they could get their hands on and torturing those who resisted. “This is not an extraction,” he spoke in a low voice. “We are going to destroy them.” He had every intention of tearing this base down. “And  I’m coming.”

“Your Highness-”

“Alert the soldiers,” Thor ignored Sitwell’s hasty attempt to intervene and turned to Natasha and Clint. “Pick the best warriors, make sure the horses get saddled.” Natasha nodded firmly and led Clint after her, giving her king a small nod of approval as she passed.

“Your Highness, you can’t just storm out of the castle and leave the kingdom unattended,” Sitwell demanded.

Obadiah was sidling up, as he often did when he had a differing opinion. “Listen, I know you’re angry, alright? But just stop and think-”

Thor batted aside the arm coming to wrap around his shoulders. “I have thought long and hard about this. It must be done. We cannot rescue one man because he may have value and ignore everyone else. By the time HYDRA realizes I’m there, it will be too late. By the time word reaches the other nearby bases, if it does, I will have been long returned.” He wasn’t going to be talked out of this, and the advisors could tell.

“What will you do with the prisoners? There could be more than a hundred there,” Sitwell countered desperately.

“We will welcome them into this city,” Thor replied firmly. “And if there is nowhere for them to stay, we’ll build more houses. We have the land, and the resources. Some may choose to fight for us. Our economy can support them. Even if it couldn’t, we have a duty.”

They gave up, watching in silence as he walked away to prepare. He couldn’t spare too many men for this, but if he came  along he could make up for the smaller numbers. Twenty was a lot for an extraction, but it wasn’t that many for a complete raid of a fully-manned base. This was what his gift was for. This was what it meant to be Worthy.  _ I’m a king. I have power and resources, and it is my responsibility to use them.  _ Asgard was a place for all who stood against HYDRA and its sympathizers. Thor went to his room to get into his armor.

It had been a while since he’d rode into battle. A few weeks ago, really, when he’d rescued Steve from the forest and fought off the small band of HYDRA pursuers looking to cut down the escapees. Thor smiled to himself as he pulled on his chest plate gleaming silver and white; HYDRA probably thought Steve was dead, that they’d torn down another opposer.

They hadn’t. Thor proudly did up the clasps of his cape and strapped a sword to his waist. He pulled back some strands of hair from his face and tied them, then turned to look at himself in the full-length mirror against the wall. Strategy was not his forte, but leading his men into battle, that he could do without trouble. There was one last thing he needed before he went to meet his soldiers, though.

But Steve wasn’t in his room. He wasn’t in the infirmary either.

“He left early,” Bruce explained. “He dusted some shelves for me, then he took off. Maybe he’s in the corridor. He mentioned drawing the paintings there.”

“Was he alright?” Thor asked worriedly, trying not to show it too much.

Bruce smiled. “Seemed it. He’s been in good spirits lately.” 

Thor sighed, relieved. That was a good sign. “Thank you. I just thought I would say goodbye before I head off.”

“I’ll tell him if you don’t find him,” the doctor nodded. “Good luck, Thor.”

He nodded, striding across the room to give his friend a hug. “Thank you, my friend. I shouldn’t be more than a few days.”

“Be safe.”

“I will,” Thor smiled reassuringly.

He took his leave. The soldiers were waiting in the training grounds, mingling as they bid each other goodbye and good-luck, the twenty who had been chosen slowly breaking away from the group to follow Natasha and Clint in the direction of the courtyard. Thor came up beside them.

“You explained, I presume,” he glanced over.

“Only the basics,” Natasha replied. “You do have a plan, don’t you?”

“ Of course I do,” Thor scoffed. Servants were waiting for them, horses tacked and packed with supplies. The soldiers spread out and mounted. Thor turned to his friends. “You’ll keep an eye on everything, won’t you?”

“Always do, even if you’re here,” Clint shrugged.

“The kingdom will be fine,” Natasha agreed. “You should worry more about yourself.”

“I’ll be fine,” Thor assured, glancing at the soldiers around them. They were too preoccupied, and he decided he didn’t care anyway; he reached out for more hugs. Natasha slid into his arms and hugged him, composed as always but a little worried. Clint’s hug was much rougher, but just as meaningful.  Asgard would be safe with them for a few days.

Thor’s grey horse was brought to him, and he climbed into the saddle. It had been his father’s, and Loki’s favorite of all the horses the kingdom owned. The grey stallion was mild-mannered, but strong and brave and fast. Thor rode to the front of the group, as the last few soldiers mounted, and took the lead. He glanced back to see twenty men ready to follow wherever he led them. 

\--

The base was just two days’ ride away. He was still settling on his plan when they stopped for the first night.

Thor dismounted and nodded to the soldier who came to take his horse. Another couple of men were gathering wood for a fire, while others set about preparing some dinner. He went to help carry bundles of branches, unburdened at all by the weight. His men deserved to rest. He had no intention of wearing them out. 

It was a beautiful night. Thor knelt to start the fire, then retreated to let the others gather closer. The night was warm enough, and he didn’t need the extra heat. He shed his cape and upper-body armor, sitting back against a tree trunk to watch the others mingle. They were in good spirits, and he proudly watched them. It was reassuring to know he would be here to protect them this time, not that they needed it, but he couldn’t bear feeling helpless. It was selfish, he knew it.

“Lord Thor,” a soldier approached, breaking him from his train of thought and handing down a bowl.

“Thank you,” Thor smiled back and took the food, sitting back to enjoy it. 

The chatter around him was pleasant, mixing well with a cool breeze promising Fall wasn’t far around the corner. A few nocturnal creatures chattered, and the sky was just as full of stars as always. The view wasn’t as clear as it was from the graveyard, partially obscured by foliage, but it was a nice change. Other than the fact that it somehow he felt lonelier.  _ Even long dead I can’t let you go...  _ He shouldn’t cling so much to his family.  _ Perhaps I should seek a better place to spend my evenings than the graveyard.  _ It had become an addiction, he knew that, constantly returning there. Something for him to lean on. He should be looking for advice and comfort from his friends, the people still alive, not corpses buried deep beneath dirt and their lives lost to memories.

He missed Steve. As he thought about what was to come, he wished Steve were here all the more, with wisdom well beyond his years in his bright eyes and in his shoulders, compassion untarnished by what had been done to his body. Kind, brave Steve. Strong, determined Steve. Persevering, fighting Steve.

\--

Thor took watch. He stayed up most of the night and changed places with a soldier to rest for the last two hours of night. As the sun rose, so did the soldiers. They packed and took off. Thor did his best not to think about his family – he wasn’t coming home for them. He wasn’t fighting for them.

They rode all day, galloping as far as the horses could handle, then slowing for lunch. Then they picked up the pace. Soon the sun was setting again, so they stopped to make camp. The HYDRA base was a mere half day’s ride from here. Thor could see the peak of the structure poking above the treetops. The sight made his heart stir and his muscles leap with anticipation.

He tore his eyes away from it and watched his men go about making camp. He was about to offer his help gathering wood again, when a grunt and a shuffle caught his attention. It was slightly muted in the overall bustle, but odd enough to turn his head. A soldier was climbing down from his horse, swinging his leg out of the saddle and lowering himself to the ground with a wince.

Thor knew those shoulders, that slightly tousled blonde hair, those lips tightly pressed together with determination. The sight of Steve took him by such  surprise he couldn’t contain himself. “Steve!” he stormed over.

Steve turned his head and lost his grip on the saddle, falling backwards and landing on his shoulders, his foot still caught in the stirrup. He landed with a thud and a clink of metal.

“What on Earth are you doing here,” Thor was already saying, hurrying a bit faster. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He shook his head and took Steve’s ankle, freeing it from the stirrup and holding out his hands to pull his friend standing.

Steve took them and got to his feet, shifting his torso in his armor and brushing himself off. He looked a little bashful, but straightened and firmed his jaw. “I’m here to fight.” He was certainly dressed for it, clad in the same armor as all the other soldiers; his chest protected by thick leather, his arms braced in steel, and a sword strapped to his back. Thor felt a hint of pride at the sight of the Asgardian star buckle resting over Steve’s heart, shiny and exactly right.

A soldier came to lead the horse away (that was a  _ huge _ horse, how on Earth had Steve managed to get the biggest horse out of all of them), and Thor placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder. It was impossible to be angry at the sight of his friend so determined. He couldn’t deny a warrior his right to fight for what he believed in. Couldn’t deny  _ any  _ person.

But this was a dangerous place to be. Thor brought Steve to where he’d deposited his things. “You know what we’re about to do tomorrow, right?”

Steve followed and held his ground, watching Thor take off his cape and armor. “We’re destroying a HYDRA base and rescuing everybody being held there.” He didn’t miss a beat, didn’t hesitate or quiver.

Would he quiver tomorrow, when they were inside the base? When it was time to draw swords? Thor didn’t like to underestimate people, but his first couple of battles hadn’t been the easiest to charge into. Even brave men wavered. Only the stupid charged in without fear, and he knew Steve was far from an idiot. “Have you ever been in a fight before?” he asked.  _ Go home. You’ll be safe there. I’d hate myself if you got hurt. Are you even in any condition to be fighting?  _ Thor took Steve by the shoulders and looked him up and down, scoured his face: his friend looked a little flushed from his battle to dismount that massive horse, and he was slightly gaunt and breathing heavier than he should be... But he looked good. He looked ready for a fight. And it suited his face, like it was an expression he wore often. That tapered jaw could really square out, and his dark eyebrows were firmly furrowed.

“More than I can count,” Steve replied. “Never been in a swordfight, but I’ve been training.”

Training?  _ How long have you been training for?  _ Thor stared, somewhat incredulous, yet not at the same time. This should surprise him a whole lot more, yet it was so fitting. “ Wha \- you...” There was no way not to be impressed. And how could he deny a man like that a place in this? How could he turn away such a bold, uncrushable spirit? He couldn’t say no to those eyes. “Steve...”

“I couldn’t fight them then,” Steve spoke again, his voice dark, “but I can fight them now.”

“Don’t be reckless,” Thor breathed. “You have nothing to prove.” One  try , he would give it one try to convince Steve to stay back and stay safe. “I don’t want you to get hurt, or killed.”  _ I need more time with you. I need to get to know you. _

“Too late for that,” Steve shrugged dismissively, glancing away for a moment and shifting his shoulders. “ Nothin ’ HYDRA can do to me that they haven’t already done.”

Thor sighed and hung his head. This was a losing fight. He laughed ruefully and shook his head. “You are impossible...”  _ HYDRA’s worst nightmare. A man they can never take, never defeat. As long men like you exist, HYDRA cannot win.  _ "I would be proud to have you fight with us.” He gave Steve a smile, and the one he got back was satisfied and victorious.  _ Cheeky. _

“I’ll be proud to fight with you,” Steve agreed.

_ You are unbelievable.  _ Thor was going to put his foot down though: he wasn’t about to let an unexperienced warrior race in with a sword he couldn’t have spent more than a week learning how to use. Maybe Steve had been in his share of fistfights, which Thor could believe, but that was very different from what they were about run into. “You may accompany us,” Thor lifted his eyebrow, “but you must obey my orders. Understood? Every single one. That is my condition.”

Steve’s eyebrow leapt. “Seems I don’t have a choice.”

“I am the king,” Thor agreed.

“Very well, Your Highness,” Steve held out his hand. Thor took it, and the grip was firm. “ So what’s the plan?”

The king paused. “We’re going to attack the front door.”  Why did he feel a bit  embarrassed to say it?

“You don’t have a plan, do you,” Steve’s eyebrow did that jump again.

Thor scratched his head and sat down. Nobody was close enough to hear, busying themselves with tending the horses, building the fire, or preparing dinner. He sighed and shook his head a little. “I’m not sure there’s much else we can do.”

Steve sat down with him and started to undo the buckled on his armor. His fingers were still shaking, but he managed on his own. “ So you’re just  gonna run in there?”

“It usually works,” Thor shrugged, leaning back on his hands and watching Steve work his armor off with winces and twists. He still couldn’t seem to lift his arms properly, and twisting or bending too far was still painful. He itched to help, but restrained himself. Steve’s left ear was always aimed a little towards him, and he usually sat to Thor’s right – he must be a bit deaf, then. Thor had seen Steve’s eyes flick to his lips on occasion, probably without the other man’s noticing.  _ Are you in any shape to fight?  _ Steve might punch him for that. Besides, Clint was half  deaf himself, and he was one of  Asgard’s best warriors.  _ But Clint has years of training. Steve hasn’t ever fought with a sword before. _

Maybe he shouldn’t have promised to let Steve come along. This was stupid. How could he defend the decision to let Steve, with his shaking hands and limited range of motion and short-sighted eyes, join in a swordfight?  _ I’ll stay close. I’ll protect you.  _ But what about his other men? What if someone died because he wasn’t able to put his full focus on fighting? What if Steve died because Thor had foolishly allowed him to come?  _ It’s not my choice. He has the right to fight for what he believes in. After all that has been taken from him, surely I could not remove this choice... _

“Hey,” Steve waved a hand in front of his face. “You okay?”

There he went again, letting his thoughts drift and his mind worry. Thor pulled out the tie in his hair and let the strands fall around his cheeks. “Lost, as usual,” he smiled sadly, happy to admit that quietly to just Steve. “As much as I want to shout at you for coming, I’m glad you’re here.”

“Yeah?” Steve smiled, and Thor could see he’d gone a little pink, even in the fading light. “I probably shouldn’t have come, you’re right...”

“Perhaps,” Thor agreed. “But I can’t blame you for it. Though I must ask how you managed to find the largest horse in the stables. Have you ever ridden before?”

“No...” Steve scratched his head with embarrassment. “I didn’t really think about it, to be honest.”

“How did you manage to climb on?”

Steve shrugged. “Fallen log. But Natasha helped the first time.”

_ Tasha...  _ Of course. Thor shook his head. “It would appear you’ve already smooth-talked your way into favor with my friends.”  _ Of course _ _ they would like you. How could anyone not like you? How could anyone refuse you? _

“Didn’t take much,” Steve laughed. “Maybe you should be more concerned about your friends’ recklessness than mine.” 

Thor laughed too. “I still can’t believe you’re here.”

“HYDRA couldn’t get rid of me. You think you can?” Steve loosened the laces on his boots, a sly grin on his lips as he focused on pulling them off.

The king’s eyes widened incredulously. “I am royalty.”

“Sorry,” Steve dropped his boots beside him and looked right at him. “You think you can get rid of me,  _ Your Highness. _ "

Thor gawked, fighting to keep offense on his face instead of the chuckles forcing free. He certainly couldn’t stuff away the warmth in his face and in his chest. Without thinking, he gave Steve’s head a friendly cuff, ruffling his hair fondly. Steve batted him away, continuing to laugh joyously.

They set up their beds side-by-side. It wouldn’t be appropriate to sleep up against each other like they usually did in the graveyard, not with all these people around to see. That was alright; Steve fell asleep first, so Thor could still take off his jacket and tuck it around his blanketed body. He sat by his sleeping friend while he kept watch on the camp, scooting a little closer now that everyone else was asleep too. Steve’s slightly rattled breathing was soothing, just as deep and even as usual. He was adorable when he was asleep, his forelock flopped in his face and his mouth hanging open to breathe better, one arm stuffed under the pillow to prop himself a bit higher. Thor folded up his own blanket and carefully lifted Steve’s head, cradling his cheek and sliding the blanket underneath. Steve licked his lips but didn’t stir, his breathing quieting a bit.

Thor smiled. This time, he couldn’t hold himself back from lingering his hand and gently stroking Steve’s bangs out of his face. Steve was turned a little onto his chest, cheek squished into his eye. The last time Thor had seen him laid out like that, he’d been in the infirmary, skin the shade of death, hanging on by the thinnest thread imaginable. No, Thor didn’t believe in destiny, but he was grateful for this.  _ The universe took my family away, but it gave me you. _

Thor had no problem sitting here over Steve’s peacefully-sleeping form, waiting for his turn to take a brief rest and recharge for tomorrow’s fight. He didn’t feel tired. How could he feel tired when Steve was right here beside him, skin glowing in the dim blue light of night?

\--

Steve slept heavily for a couple of hours before finally moving. His breathing pattern changed, and he rolled over with a grunt. Thor looked away from the forest and down, watching. Another few minutes, and Steve rolled over again, his eyebrows furrowed and one hand pawing drearily over his shoulder. Just a few moments more and he was rolling  _ again _ , mumbling to himself, clutching at the blankets, at his shirt. His fingers dug into the scars reaching for his shoulder, and he moaned softly into the folded blanket under his head. Thor moved in.

But Steve was already rolling back over to face the king, his eyes peeling open and his face pinched with pain. He wrestled with the blankets, fumbling to drag the collar of his shirt aside so he could scratch his shoulder.

Thor untangled the blankets and jacket over top, folding them back. He took Steve gently by the wrists. “No,” he scolded quietly. “Steve, stop that. Are you alright?”

Steve sucked a wet breath through clenched teeth and swallowed. “Hurts,” he panted. “Itchin’. S’okay. Go to sleep.” He tried to pull away, arching his back as if he could simply move away from his discomfort.

“I’m keeping watch,” Thor shook his head and held his grip, careful to keep it loose enough not to leave bruises. “Come on. You need not suffer alone.”

“Came to help.” Steve grit his teeth harder, tugged his arms harder and squirmed, edging toward frantic as his body tried to escape something that couldn’t be run from, and that his hands were restrained from even attempting to address.

“That need not mean you can’t have a little yourself,” Thor replied firmly. “Come. Explain to me what’s wrong. I will find something to help it.”

Steve finally went still in his grip and relented with a deep sigh. A tremor passed through his body, and he closed his eyes. “Okay...” he succumbed. “Okay. Thank you.”

Only then did Thor let go. “Alright,” he smiled, keeping his voice quiet so as not to wake the other soldiers. “Sit.” Steve  obeyed, his tremors worse than usual. Thor did reach out to help this time, putting a hand to his side and pushing him sitting. Steve clung to him, trembling and pale even in this light. “Good. Now shirt off.”

Steve gripped his tighter, his eyes widening a little. He shook his head, and there was fear in his eyes. “N-not here-”

“Somewhere else,” Thor agreed. “Just the two of us.” He grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around Steve’s vibrating shoulders, taking his hand and curling the fingers around the fabric to hold it in place. Steve gripped it and accepted the help to stand, leaning into Thor’s stable frame. Thor picked up his bag on the way and walked them beyond the little clearing where the group had gathered.

Steve sat on a mossy log when he was directed to, glancing over his shoulder. Seeing that the other soldiers were no longer visible through the bushes, he relaxed and slumped forward. Thor hung his bag off a branch and opened it, pulling out a canteen of water and a handkerchief. And that was chickweed, wasn’t it? Yes, it was. Thor picked a generous handful and walked closer over.

“Alright,” he put the herbs and water at his side and reached up to take the blanket, slowly drawing it down. Steve clung on, and Thor frowned. “Let me look,” he insisted. “I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

Steve kneaded the dirt with his bare toes, his lower lip wobbling and his posture defensive, fearful. “I don’t want you to see it,” he rasped, on the verge of tears and his body heaving with barely-contained panic. “Please. I can’t.”

“I’ve seen it,” Thor admitted, taking his friend by the face and rubbing his cheeks with his thumbs. “I’ve seen it, Steve. I know it’s not pretty. But it’s a part of you, one that cannot be ignored.”  So Steve had found out what HYDRA had engraved into his back. His heart throbbed.  _ Let me help you. _

“It hurts.” The admission looked like it pained Steve as much as the wound itself. He gripped the blankets tighter around himself, face red with shame and tears. “Shouldn’t let it hurt. Can’t let them win.”

“Acknowledging that it hurts doesn’t mean you lose,” Thor smiled, wiping at the tears that dribbled over his thumbs and trying not to choke up himself. “It doesn’t give them power to feel and to admit that it damaged you. So long as you get back up. Steve, you’ve been fighting to get to your feet since I met you. They  _ can’t _ win. Not with men like you standing in their way. You’re allowed to bleed, and hurt, and cry. They didn’t take away your right to do those things.”

Steve let go of the blanket, but it was only so he could stuff his palms into his eye sockets and try to hold the tears in his face.

“Come here,” Thor murmured, but did the moving for the both of them. He wrapped his hand around the back of Steve’s head and pulled him into his chest, hugging around his neck and below his hips to avoid his back. Steve fell into him, turning his head a little so he could still breathe while pressing his face as tightly into  Thor’s solid chest as possible.  _ That’s it.  _

“ M’sorry ,” he choked quietly.

“For what?” Thor rubbed the base of Steve’s skull with his fingers and rested his chin on the other man’s head, holding him as close as possible.

“You’re a king,” Steve tried weakly, sniffing roughly.

“All men are entitled to be cried on in their lifetime,” Thor smiled. “Especially kings. I have the best cleaners in the land, if necessary. Cry as much as you like.”

“’f I get you sick,” Steve murmured.

Thor chuckled. “I won’t get sick, Steve, promise.”  _ From you, or anything. You could sneeze in my face and I would be alright.  _ “Do your worst.”

Steve shifted a bit to get more comfortable, curled up against Thor’s chest. Finally, the tension in his body broke, and his tears soaked more aggressively into Thor’s shirt, quickly drenching it. That was alright. He had plenty of shirts. This one was going to a noble cause. He held on tight, and Steve fit absolutely perfectly into his torso. Thor lifted him off the log and sat in the dirt, curling his body around the other man like a shield and kissing the top of his head without thinking. He grasped Steve’s knees and pulled them into his lap, rubbing his thumb into them as he held on protectively.  _ Fight, and never stop. But you can take a break. So long as you get back up. _

Steve would get back up. Thor doubted anything would keep him down, not permanently. Steve  _ did _ get back up. He cried himself dry, until he was satisfied, grieved and let himself be weak for as long as he needed. And there was no-one to witness it but Thor, the moon, and a billion stars. Steve came back to himself, stopped shaking so badly and caught his breath while Thor stroked his hair. “Shh,” he finally whispered, and Steve did, swallowing roughly and sniffling into his chest, but otherwise still and quiet. He went limp in the king’s grip.

Finally, in his own time, Steve decided he was ready and sat up a little. He wiped his nose on his sleeve and rubbed his forearm across his eyes. “Really hurts,” he admitted, licking tears off his lips. The admission came without shame this time. He nudged the blanket off his shoulders and let it fall away, dropping his head into Thor’s chest submissively. “Hurts like a bitch. Was dreamin’ ‘bout it, what they did.”

Thor moved slowly, adjusting his position so he could reach his supplies and also get Steve out of his shirt. Steve was pliant, letting himself be manipulated. He flinched when the king took hold of the hem of his shirt from behind and started to draw it up, but didn’t make a move to stop him. Thor slowly pulled it up and over Steve’s head. “Where does it hurt, Steve?”

“Middle,” the other man mumbled. “Waist.” Thor looked.

It had been a while since he’d gotten a full look at Steve’s back. Last he’d seen it, Steve had been unconscious, and his back a bloody, leaking mess. Now all the wounds were sealed closed, but some of them were definitely not healed completely, and never would be. There was HYDRA’s skull, greedily drawn in bumpy white lines across all the skin available. Thor could see the sore spots, a little swollen and raised higher around Steve’s spine and down on the fleshy parts above his hips. “Can I touch it?”

Steve paused, then nodded shakily. 

Thor proceeded slowly. “Alright,” he leaned back a little so Steve could rest better against him and poured water into a handkerchief. “Bit cold,” he warned softly. “Tell me to stop, and I will.” There was no reply, only the tensing of muscle.  So he proceeded, pushing the soaked cloth into Steve’s irritated skin. Steve shuddered with relief and his muscles unwound as he groaned into Thor’s clavicle.

The king smile and picked up the chickweed, chewing it to a pulp and spitting it into the handkerchief. He added a bit more water and worked it into a paste, pushing the cool substance into Steve’s back. He started with the worst areas, then moved onto the rest, delicately compressing the herb into the scarring.  “Better?”  he murmured, glancing down at the tufts of disheveled blonde hair beneath his chin.

Steve mumbled something that even Thor’s keen hearing couldn’t pick up and nodded, nestling a bit closer. He deflated with one huge sigh, and his breathing leveled again. Just like that, he was asleep.

Thor finished. He worked the last of the herb into Steve’s skin and rinsed it clean with water. He dabbed it dry with the blanket, then wrapped Steve up in it and carried him back into the clearing. Everything was as he had left it, his men unaware of what had transpired. Thor knelt and carefully rested Steve on his side, making sure he was warm and comfortable. He set a hand to Steve’s head, sweeping his thumb across the other man’s temple. He glanced up at the sky; soon it would be time to wake a soldier and take his own brief rest. Then tomorrow, they would fight.

And Steve was right: he didn’t have a plan. Thor frowned and watched his friend sleep, desperate to find a way to keep the man safe but let him have his freedom at the same time.

_ The secret entrance... _ He would think of something. Thor woke a soldier and lay on the bare grass, discretely slipping his hand under the blankets and placing it on top of Steve’s.

\--

When he woke up, Steve was already folding up the blankets, Thor’s jacket draped over his shoulders. He looked over and smiled. “Hey.” Last night’s suffering was still faintly visible in his expression, but his demeanor was cheerful.

Thor smiled back and sat up, pushing the blanket off himself. Huh, someone must have draped it over him. He stood up to help, taking the blankets when Steve handed them to him and securing them to his pack. By the time he was done, Steve was already strapping on his armor.  _ I need a better plan. _ One that wouldn’t allow Steve to charge off into battle with the rest of them.  _ Hmm... _

He focused on his own armor, and fastened the cape to his shoulders. He strapped his sword, tied back his hair, and turned around to offer Steve swap horses with him, since his was smaller-

Steve was already leading his horse away from the crowd and over to a slightly-raised piece of ground. He hopped onto a protruding root and jumped, so he didn’t have to raise his arms as much, grabbing the saddle horn and sliding quite gracefully onto the horse’s back. Clearly, he was in no need of help. Thor smiled and went to look for his horse. A soldier had already saddled it for him, so he mounted and waited for his men to gather before leading them out of the clearing. Steve trotted alongside the group, maneuvering his beast of a horse just behind Thor, a bit to the side. He smiled when the king glanced over to make eye contact.

Steve looked strong and majestic atop his horse. It was far too big for him, but he was handling it like he’d been born to, his posture loose in the hips and straight in the shoulders, his chin held high. Thor turned away before anyone could spot how pink his cheeks were becoming, grinning at the shape of the HYDRA base just waiting to be torn down.

_ I think I have a plan. _


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always for your support! And as always, enjoy <3

There was something very pleasing about sitting on a horse. The world looked different from up here. It was a little uncomfortable on his crooked spine, but Steve stuffed a rolled-up blanket behind him and that helped. It wasn’t just being on a horse making him happy – he  _ belonged _ here, even though he shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t be here, dressed to fight, even though this was  _ exactly _ where he was meant to be.

Thor’s muscles were tightening the closer they got to enemy territory, bunching in preparation to spring into action. He was breathing more deeply, lightly balanced in the saddle like he could slide off at any second. He looked exactly like the warrior from the painting, bright eyes set determinately. It could be just the light, but Steve had never seen anyone  _ glow _ like Thor did. Thor radiated raw power, and Steve’s heart raced to witness how much of that painting was an exaggeration. 

The king wasn’t wearing much in the way of armor. All the soldiers were protected mostly in leather, with a few steel pieces on arms and legs, plus a shoulder guard or two, but Thor’s arms were bare. Steve could see every groove of muscle there was to see from this angle, in this light. Apparently all that plating he’d caught glimpses of the king wearing had only been for demonstration. Thor had taken all of that off for a real battle, his only real armor the leather chest plate and heavy boots.

When the trees started to thin and the clearing where HYDRA had built one of their many bases, Thor pulled back on the reins and spun his horse around to face them. He wasn’t dressed any more ornately than his soldiers, but he looked every bit a king, crowned in golden hair and framed in brilliant daylight. When he spoke, the wind listened. “Today we will pull out more of HYDRA’s roots,” he announced. “Nine will come with me to drive as many enemy soldiers as we can away from the prisoners. The other nine will free the prisoners and lead them safely back to the horses. Steve,” Thor slid off his horse, lighter on his feet than Steve had ever seen a man move. His heart stopped beating and he sat alert and ready for his instructions, pushing back his shoulders. Thor smiled at him with pride, and it flushed him warm and red. “You and Thomson will sneak in through the secret entrance and find the blacksmith they have prisoner. He’s being held at the very top.”

The other soldiers were dismounting too, and Steve followed suit. He could see that Thor wanted to help him, but the king stayed back as he swung his leg out of the saddle and carefully lowered himself to the ground, dropping the last few inches so he didn’t have to strain his shoulders. Steve landed firmly on both feet, and straightened. 

“We’ll give you a few minutes’ head start,” Thor grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. “Good luck, stay safe. We’ll be right behind you. Everyone will meet back at the horses.”

Steve nodded, giving back the smile in confidence and gratitude. Thomson appeared at his  side, a sword drawn in his hand.

This wasn’t going to be like training at all, and he’d only been doing that for a week.  _ I know how to fight.  _ Steve turned away from the others, away from Thor, and followed his guardian from the group, dark resolve falling into place. He was distinctly aware of the tremor in his hands, but he forced himself to ignore it. The battlefield was no place to falter. People were trusting him.

Thomson led them to a gentle incline, striding over it and through some bushes on the other side. Steve slipped after him, nimble on his feet through the heavy underbrush. The plunged into a narrow tunnel, and darkness all but swallowed them. The bushes fell back into place behind them, and their way was lit by a few candles up ahead, sparsely placed. 

The tunnel had been dug between some tree roots, and down under the surface. Steve padded as quietly as he could behind the dark outline of his companion.

“Okay,” Thomson approached the end of the tunnel very slowly and glanced over his shoulder. “Ready?”

Steve nodded in the dim light, reaching to his shoulder and wrapping his fingers around the handle of his sword. He was. He braced himself, lifting off his heels in preparation, and Thomson pushed on the wall. It swung inward with the soft crunch of grit, but the space beyond was empty and quiet.

His back ached. The air was familiar, the lighting, the grey brick, the dirt floors, the cool air. It wasn’t the base he’d been kept in, but it was a seed from the same plant, identical in every way that mattered. Steve clutched the hilt of his sword tighter, but didn’t draw it. The primal human part of him was desperate to run into some enemies so he could get his revenge, but the rest of him was glad the coast was clear. They’d come out in a cellar of some kind. The room was spacious and lined with food-laden shelves.

Thomson raised his sword and led the way, weaving between shelving. They both kept their eyes roving constantly in every direction as they walked as quietly as possible for the staircase in the corner. As they walked into the den of the serpent, Steve steeled himself. He couldn’t pretend he wasn’t afraid. But that wouldn’t stop him,  _ didn’t _ stop him as Thomson nudged open the cellar door and gestured for him to follow.

The base was functionally square, and built of grey stone. Steve remembered the colors very well. Out in the hallways, there wasn’t much going on. This must be a quieter area of the base. Either that, or the occupants were busy with other tasks.  _ Busy with the prisoners. Hurting the prisoners – _

Thomson’s hand wrapped around his bicep and pulled him back. They both tucked around the corner of a connecting hallway, pressed tightly to the wall. Marching boots approached, and Steve held his breath, reaching back up for his sword just in case.

The boots walked right on past, worn by two HYDRA soldiers. Steve shivered and clenched his fists until his back stopped throbbing. Thomson looked over, but didn’t say anything, giving him a small nod and leading the way back out. “We need to find some stairs,” he mouthed, pointing upward. Steve nodded, and glanced around. He wished he’d been brought around more of the base he’d been kept in, or he might have some idea of the layout here.

Luckily, this building wasn’t designed to fool intruders, and things were fairly easy to navigate. Thomson held his sword at the ready and kept close, ready to protect Steve at a moment’s notice. Steve couldn’t manage to be annoyed – he knew there was a good chance he’d need it.

The sound of crashing gave them pause, yelling and clanging of swords echoing through the corridors. Thor and the other soldiers had started their attack. Thomas glanced down at him, then picked up the pace. Steve jogged behind him as fast as he could, almost immediately out of breath. He pushed on. More sounds echoed ahead, the stomping of boots and rattling of armor as the HYDRA soldiers rallied to defend. Thomson grabbed his arm and drew Steve rapidly to the side, bundling them both into another room while the enemy hurried past.

The enemy soldier carried on by, but Thomson was pushing Steve behind him and brandishing his sword. They’d walked straight into some kind of strategy room, full of books and maps and a table spread out with cards surrounded by men in uniforms drinking from beautiful metal cups. One of them shouted and unhooked the sword hanging from his chair, drawing it. The others followed suit, and Thomson rushed in with a yell. Steve moved.

There was no way he was just going to sit back and watch. Most of these people didn’t look like soldiers, dressed in ornate armor and decorative layers of black and red cloth. But they were all armed. Steve nimbly scampered into the corner, knowing he would quickly become a target. One of the men was already setting his sights on him, reaching to his belt for his blade.

Steve had been in lots of fights. Sticking up for his beliefs had always ended in swinging fists and bloody noses, and if it weren’t for Bucky, he probably would have died in some alley long ago. There had been no shortage of people to stand up to: drunks preying on young women, bullies preying on smaller, weaker children, and of course any two people with differing opinions and not enough brain cells to express themselves. Ma had always asked him with exasperation as she dabbed at a bloody nose, how in the name of anything good on this green Earth he managed to pick a fight with every single person he met. Steve had always promised her that he didn’t start those fights, that he only got involved when he thought someone was going to get hurt.

_ “I try my best, Mrs. Rogers, swear,” Bucky always promised. “Always keep close, but he runs away when I blink.” _

_ “It’s not your fault, Barnes,” Sarah smiled gratefully at him, then stared down at her son and shook her head. “What am I going to do with  _ _ you, _ _ boy...” _

_ Steve shrugged, wiping blood off his lip. They’d have hurt her, the girl in the alleyway. They’d hurt him instead, but at least she’d gotten away, escaped what they’d been trying to do to her. They wouldn’t have done that to him.  _ _ Maybe someday they _ _ would get carried away, would be too drunk to care that he wasn’t a woman, and would be satisfied with his slender build, his soft, fair skin – _

_ Sarah ruffled his hair fondly, annoyed but proud at the same time. Steve wished he could be just a bit bigger, a bit stronger, so that if he must be so compelled to fight, that at least he could put up a better one. “Poor James is going to die of stress one of these days, the time he spends worrying about you,” she gave him a cloth and some water. “Your old ma, too.” _

_ “The day he stops  _ _ fightin _ _ ’ is the day we should be worried,” Bucky chuckled. “Here, Stevie, missed a spot.” _

This wasn’t then, when fights had been with just fists, and the worst possible end scenario was a concussion or a bruised rib, perhaps a bout of chest infection if he spent too long outside in the rain. He’d broken his nose, once. That had been something. There was always the chance that someone might go a bit too far and smash his head in, but no sober person had let themselves go that far, and Steve could usually dart around a drunk for a bit longer. Bucky had always had plenty of time to step in and save him if necessary.

Bucky wasn’t here to rescue him when the fight he picked was too much. Bucky was dead, and Steve would be too if he didn’t think quickly, and move even quicker. A knife flew over his head and bounced off the wall. Steve yelped and lunged forward, barely dodging the next one. A week’s worth of practicing with a wooden sword wouldn’t be enough to defeat a real enemy.  So Steve left the weapon sheathed to his back and raced for the bookshelf instead.

Thomson was holding his own, beating back as many men as he could. He was a strong warrior, but with five men to fight off by himself, that might be too much. Steve grabbed the nearest book off the shelf and turned, hurling it as hard as he could, sore shoulders be damned. He was no marksman, hadn’t even brought his new glasses, but the leather-bound manuscript hit one of the enemies in the chest. It wasn’t a devastating blow by any means, would probably barely bruise through the armor the man was wearing, but it made a smacking sound, and diverted the man’s attention. Thomson struck out, slicing through a gap in the armored plating and felling the enemy.

Steve straightened. Another enemy was coming for him, turning a knife in his hand as he prowled forward, ravenous murder in his eyes. Steve’s eyes widened and he stumbled backward, tripping over a groove in the floor and falling on his shoulders with a grunt. The HYDRA soldier lunged forward, and Steve yelped, raising his arm to block the knife plunging for his chest.

The steel bracer strapped to his arm caught the point, stopping it from hitting its intended mark. It slipped, slicing across the meat of his thumb, but the pain didn’t register. If Steve knew how to cope with one thing, it was pain. Pain wouldn’t stop him.

Steve grit his teeth and kicked, jamming his heel into the soldier’s shin as hard as he could. In these heavy boots, the blow landed much harder than it usually would have. The soldier grunted, reaffirming his grip on his weapon and coming in for more. Steve rolled, wincing as his sword pushed into his back, but not stopping, not slowing. He had to keep away from that knife, or it was over. A punch he could survive, but a stab wound? That would be walking a thin line, and he’d  _ promised _ Thor he would get out of this alive and well. Steve scrambled to his feet and bravely drew his sword, finding his battle legs. He could feel his body struggling with the strain he was putting it through, but he ignored his starved lungs and found his stance.

A week’s worth of lessons was coming back, along with his own fighting experience. Maybe what he needed right now was the longer reach, so the sword was a good idea. It would keep his knife-wielding opponent a safe distance away. Steve tightened his grip and let the other man attack first.

“You’re a bit small to be a soldier,” the HYDRA fighter sneered. “Has  Asgard fallen on hard times?”

Steve growled in place of a reply and held his sword in front of him, aiming the tip at the soldier. He would not be intimidated or goaded. He stood taller, firmer, and when the man came for him he was ready.

He was quick on his feet. Steve darted to the side as the man tried to get inside his radius and stab at his arm. He took a step back and raised his sword to block, unwilling to swipe and leave his body exposed. Knowing he couldn’t beat his opponent with skill or strength alone, Steve opted to make use of any advantage he had. That would be speed: dressed in much less restrictive armor, he was able to move better. The HYDRA soldier swiped a spear off the wall and swung it, but Steve bent to the side and reached behind him for the shelf of trinkets and rolled maps. The object his hand found was a decorative brass vase, clearly a spoil of conquest. The knife came for his chest again, and Steve’s fingers managed to adjust the object in his hand. He held up the vase, and the knife went straight in.

A stroke of luck. It was a wide vase, but Steve was still thankful the knife hadn’t struck his fingers instead. He almost forgot to keep going, just managing to push the vase forward and twist sideways, safely making an opening for himself. Steve swiped his sword, and the HYDRA soldier couldn’t swing the spear around fast enough to block. By the time the long wooden shaft struck Steve’s shoulder, the sword was already cutting into his side, sliding through a gap in the armor.

Steve staggered back, off-balanced by the blow. The soldier staggered too, dropping his weapons to clutch his gushing stomach. Steve kicked the spear away and picked up the knife, hurrying back out of the way as he watched the blood flow, the man’s face losing color by the second.

The other four were dead. Thomson staggered over, his sword dripping with blood and his face pale. “Come on” he urged hoarsely. “We have to go.” He had his hand pressed over his side, by the bottom edge of his leather armor.

“Did you get hit?” Steve sheathed his sword and forgot the dying soldier at his feet.

“It’s fine, we have to keep going,” Thomson replied tersely. “It’s not deep.”

Steve wondered if perhaps he should have fought harder, should have helped and reduced the odds. Four-to-one was a sure way to bring home a cut or two. But he nodded and went for the door, peering around it before stepping out first, before Thomson could push past and take the lead again. His companion adjusted the straps around his waist, pushing the belt and cloth into the wound and letting go. “Nice work,” he offered hoarsely.

Steve nodded, and shut the door behind them, praying they didn’t encounter any more obstacles. This had taken the air out of him. There was no time to stop and catch their breath, however, because they could hear the enemy swarming down the corridor toward them, toward the sounds of fighting. Thomson took the lead, running in the direction of enemy footsteps and turning a sharp corner down another corridor before they could be spotted. They both jogged, hurrying for the staircase just up ahead. Someone was running down, and Steve placed the knife he’d stolen into Thomson’s open hand. The soldier waited for the first sight of the enemy coming down to meet them, and hurled the weapon. It stuck in the man’s exposed thigh, and Thomson raced up to strike him down. A second appeared behind, crashing into the body of his companion, and Thomson cut him down too.

It was a narrow staircase. Thomson hopped up it with his sword held out in front, Steve behind and listening for approaching enemies. If there had been any enemy soldiers on higher floors, they must have all come down to fight by now. Nobody else crossed their path. A small miracle. Thomson was really flagging. Steve took the initiative and drew his own sword, readying himself for a fight if another came their way.

The sounds of the chaos on the ground floor were far away now, still drifting up the stairwell, but removed. None of their concern. Their concern now was locating the blacksmith and getting the hell out. Steve gripped his sword a little tighter and stepped toward the door at the top of the staircase. There was only one door, only one possible place for this inventor to be kept, which meant less searching, but a higher risk of getting cornered.

Of course the door was locked. Thomson rattled the chain looped around the ring in the wall, giving it a yank. No luck. He winced and lifted the wooden plank bracketed across the door, setting it on the floor and inspecting the lock on the chain.

Steve grabbed the door and pulled it open as far as the chain would allow, looking up at Thomson. “I can fit,” he reasoned, loosening the strap holding the sword to his back. Without his armor, he could squeeze through.

“I’ll guard the door,” Thomson nodded. “See if you can find a way to open it from the inside.”

If that were possible, Steve was certain the occupant would have done that himself, but he nodded. Being able to get in wouldn’t matter if he couldn’t get the prisoner out. But at least they had options. Steve pulled off his armor as fast as he could, dropping the leather chest plate on the ground and sliding his sheathed sword through the gap in the door. He picked up the decorative cloth adornments from his armor. “Here,” he reached out for Thomson’s hip, pulling away what the soldier had tied there. He folded his sash and pushed it tightly over the bleeding hole. “Hold it,” he ordered with more surety than he probably should have to a more experienced soldier, but Thomson obeyed, pressing with his hand. Steve tied the cloth back over it, strapping the belt over top. The pressure should help. He looked up at his companion with confidence. “Won’t be long,” he promised, even though he couldn’t know that.

Thomson gave him a firm, trusting nod, settling into the balls of his feet and visibly steeling himself to guard this door with his life. Steve hoped it didn’t come down to that. He wasted no more time and ducked under the chain, straining the door open as far as it would go and wedging himself into the gap.

It hurt. The wood scraped through his thin shirt along his back, aggravating the raised lines of burns with the rough texture. He bit his lip and kept going, pushing all the air out of his body so he could squeeze through. With one last shove, he slid out the other side, and was inside the room.

Steve wiped a tear out of his eye as quickly as he could and looked around. It was a fairly large room, swords and shields and pieces of armor hung on racks along the walls, along with a few other deadly-looking weapons. Axes, barbed spears, swords with prongs... There was a forge in the corner, glowing with faded embers, currently not in-use. The poker hung beside it was only for stoking it, but it still sent a shiver through Steve’s sore back. He quickly looked away, scanning over the tub of cold water and the anvil on a sturdy table, the hammers and tongs arranged nearby.

And in the middle, near the window, a table. A table covered in parchments, writing utensils, and what looked like an array of handles and material for making grips. At it sat a man with wild dark hair, wearing a shirt once-white covered in sooty smears. He was sketching on the page in front of him, lost in his work.

Steve approached cautiously, strapping the sword to his waist and readying his hand to draw it if he had to. He cleared his throat. The man’s head whipped up, and a pair of hazel eyes fixed his.

One sweep of his gaze was all it took to size up Steve. “You’re not HYDRA.”

“No,” Steve rushed over. He could hear the sounds of footsteps racing up the stairs. He glanced to the window. It was barred, but there were trees close by... “I’m here to get you out...” he trailed out as he got closer, stopping on the other side of the table and staring at the thick metal cuffs chaining the man’s wrists together, leaving enough length for him to work. He padded round the table, and his stomach sank.

His ankle was chained to the floor. The chain was long enough to let him walk around the room and do his work, but that wasn’t going to help much. The man put down his charcoal and wiped his forehead on the back of his hand, leaving a dark, sweaty smear. “Yeah. Good luck, kid. ‘ppreciate the thought, but you should probably get out of here before they catch you.”

Steve ignored him. He wrapped his hands around the chain and pulled, digging his heels into the floor.  Of course it didn’t budge. Someone yelled on the other side of the door, a harsh, angry yell. He couldn’t tell if it was Thomson or someone else, but it didn’t sound good. “Too late,” he remarked. “Come on, we can get you out.” He looked over at the fire, forcing his eyes to settled on the hot coals. If he could heat the chains, he might be able to break them apart.

“Not enough time,” the man shook his head. “They’ll catch you and flay you before you get the metal hot enough. Can you swing a sword?”

Steve turned around and nodded.

“Good,” the man walked around his workbench and picked up a sword rested against it. He handed it over. “If you can swing this hard enough, you should be able to break the chain. I mean, I’d do it, but,” he shrugged and wiggled his fingers, lifting his wrists with a clatter.

Steve took the sword. It was light for its size. He slid it out of the sheathe with awe as the man spread some chain across the floor and tugged it taught.

“Tony.” He man watched him. “That’s my best work.”

“Steve.” Steve clutched the handle and stepped closer to the chain. He could hear the sounds of fighting behind him, knew that Thomson was defending them pinned in his corner. He lifted the blade. 

A sword came through the wood door, and he and Tony both looked up. The tip dribbled blood, and was yanked back through. It wouldn’t be long before the enemy were finished with their sole opposer and came inside. Steve knew he couldn’t cut this chain and find a way out in time. They were trapped.

He left Tony and ran for the door, yanking a round shield off the wall and sliding his arm through the straps. The door was still propped open enough that he could see the link of chain dangling loosely, preventing anyone from getting in or out. Steve gripped the sword in both hands and lifted it up, gritting his teeth against his hurting shoulders and swinging down. With a crack, the chain snapped. Steve rammed his boot into the door and kicked it all the way open.

There were at least eight HYDRA soldiers there, filling the small space available at the top of the stairs. The sight of Steve gave them a small pause of surprise, and he took advantage of that, grabbing Thomson by the belt and pulling him backward into the room. The soldier staggered and swayed. He was bleeding, quickly losing his color. Steve tried not to look too closely at the red stains, gritting his teeth instead and shoving the other soldier behind him. “See if you can get the window open,” he ordered. “Just try.”

For a moment it looked like his companion might collapse, but he didn’t, limping determinately to the back of the room and grabbing a sword on his way. To Steve’s surprise, Tony had been silent, had already moved over to the fire and was hoisting up a steel hammer.

The men flooded the room. Steve held the sword at his side and the shield in front of him, and met them. There were far too many for him to stand a chance alone. Maybe with an unhurt helper, and an unchained blacksmith he could have, but not by himself. He couldn’t protect both of them at the same time, either, but at least now they could fend for themselves. Thomson wasn’t wedged in an impossible corner.

It was not the first time he’d faced confusion, then a primal desire to crush something small appear in the eyes of men he’d fought before. Their surprise was understandable, especially since now he wasn’t wearing his armor. It was still on the floor outside the room, and there was no way he would be able to get it on. The first HYDRA soldier was all too eager to attack him, swinging his sword with more force than Steve could hold his own against. He raised the shield, and the impact against it brought him to one knee. The sword bounced off, so Steve took his chance, lunging forward and pushing the shield into the soldier’s stomach as hard as he could. He jammed the edge into the enemy’s legs and straightened, thrusting it into his face with a crunch-bang. The man dropped, unconscious, blood pouring out of his nose. 

One down, seven to go. Steve backed up another couple of steps and abandoned his sword, sliding it across the floor. “Thomson!” It was stronger than the other swords, might be able to cut the bars. His companion looked up and dropped the sword in his hand so he could pick up the other one when Steve slid it to him. He was barely upright, but pushing through. The floor beneath him was already shimmering with blood.

Steve barely raised his shield fast enough to block the next man. Another was coming around his side to attack, or maybe he was just running to stop Thomson. Either way, Steve ducked and stuck out his leg, and the HYDRA soldier tripped over it. Steve bent under a swinging sword and kicked him. Two more enemies took his place, joining the one already attacking him. The next blow that struck his shield was hard enough to knock him backward. He tripped and fell, teeth rattling.

“Head down!” Steve looked over, in time to spot Tony swinging his hammer around and throwing it. The heavy object flew into the cluster of  HYDRA bearing down on him, hitting the closest one in the chest and knocking him back. Steve got up, already breathing far too hard, and flung out his arm. The shield smashed into the soldier’s face with a clang, and he went down, too. “Thanks,” he coughed, and Tony waved him off, drawing a poker from the fire to protect himself.

They were doing surprisingly well, but not quite well enough. Steve was surprised he wasn’t dead yet, but he was grateful he wasn’t.  _ Promised.  _ He looked between the two men coming at him from different sides and gripped his shield, ignoring his burning throat and the cough he knew wouldn’t stop if he let it out now. He swallowed forcefully and leaned forward, putting all his strength behind the shield to block the next two sword strikes. The third never came, a pair of hands instead grabbing the edge and twisting his protection away from his body hard enough to wrench his arm. Steve yelped and gripped the straps tighter, but the shield was already being pulled off his arm and thrown aside. He was defenseless against the kick that hit his stomach and knocked him into the desk. Straining for breath, Steve clutched at the table, trying to right himself. He couldn’t breathe, doubled over. He saw the sword coming for him, managed to tip sideways. The blade struck the table and wedged deep into the wood, and Steve fell over with a grunt, pushing himself backward with his feet. HYDRA’s men loomed in for the kill.

Thomson appeared over him, rolling over the desk in a flurry of scattered paper and implements, unsteady on his feet but jaw clenched in determination. He killed the soldier whose sword was trapped in the desk in one swipe, and turned on the second. He placed his body between Steve and the enemy.

The enemy wasn’t gushing blood. The attacks were much more precise. Thomson managed to block, but it was clumsy. Steve struggled to his feet, leaning on the desk and clutching his stomach as he did his best to get air into his lungs. There was a sword on the floor just over there, he could reach it-

One clang, two clangs, and a final sound of steel sliding through flesh. Steve froze. He couldn’t help it. He watched the HYDRA soldier fall, his throat slashed, but his blade lodged in Thomson’s torso. It had gone right through the slashed leather. He started to fall against the desk, and Steve lurched forward. There were more soldier coming, those already here swarming forward while back-up poured through the doorway. Steve eased Thomson to the floor as fast as he could and scrambled for his shield, crouching over his companion’s body and raising it.

He didn’t even have time to process the fact that today might be his last. Someone was yelling,  _ booming,  _ filling the stairwell with a deep, commanding sound. It was a challenge, a warning, and a promise all in one, and when Thor plowed his way through the door, he arrived like a hurricane cloaked in scarlet. The king was a far cry from how Steve normally saw him; calm and kind. All of that was burned away in favor of the flame of battle. In a flurry of scarlet cloak and golden hair, Thor grabbed the nearest soldier by the throat and hurled him. The enemy flew into his friends and bowled them over. Everyone in the room turned and swarmed him, and Steve was about to yell, but it didn’t matter. Thor wasn’t fazed, wasn’t bothered regardless of how many men were swinging their weapons at once. He was too fast, and too strong. They were no match for him, regardless of how many there were. Thor was  _ angry, _ and he’d taken them by surprise. He’d taken  _ Steve _ by surprise, and it was one of the best surprises he’d ever had.

With his bare fists, Thor tore into the men attacking him. He grabbed a wrist and twisted with a brutal snap, the hand falling open and dropped the sword. Thor’s foot was already kicking, crushing the man’s chest before he could cry out. The king swung the body around and knocked down the next closest man. He broke a nose with his elbow and grabbed the bleeding, disoriented soldier, throwing him into the wall with a crack. Nobody who fell got up again.

And Thor kept going, and going, and going until the last enemy fell. He was barely panting, but his body was swelling with those powerful breaths,  bare arms pulsing and glistening with sweat and blood. He didn’t pause though, all that fury melting away as he jogged right over and put his hand on Steve’s shoulder, looking him over briefly before turning his attention to his fallen soldier.

Tony dropped his poker and walked over with a clatter of chains, hovering over the group with a distant look of sadness in his eyes as he watched in silence.

“Steady, soldier,” Thor grabbed the sword and pulled it out, sliding his hand under Thomson’s head and cradling it gently off the floor. The warrior was shivering with pain and blood loss, his lips already going blue. “Breathe.”

Thomson wasn’t going to get back up. There was too much blood. He stared up at his king through heavy-lidded eyes. He crossed his fist over his heart. Thor pressed his hand over it, his eyes glistening with tears. He smiled proudly, squeezing the fist and nodding. Steve swallowed and took the other hand in his.

“You have served this kingdom well,” Thor didn’t let his smile fade. “I have been proud to fight alongside you.”

Thomson opened his mouth, but all that came out was blood, dribbling over his lip and down his chin. His hand clenched Steve’s, and Steve squeezed back. “Thank you,” he whispered, because he had to say  _ something _ ... Thomson smiled and shut his eyes, his skin visibly draining of the last of its color, rapidly fading from white to grey. Thor set his head on the floor, pulling his hand free and checking for a pulse. He pulled back grimly.

“He’s gone.” The king let go, and Steve let go too, reaching out and wrapping his hand around Thor’s. He squeezed tightly.

“I’m sorry,” Tony murmured above them.

“The fight isn’t over,” Thor stood up abruptly, jerking away from the body. He was covered in blood, his eyes darkening again. They quickly softened to take in the other two. “You aren’t hurt, are you?”

Shakily, Steve shook his head, accepting the help to stand. His legs felt weak, but he was alright. Tony shook his head too.

“Good,” Thor nodded, squeezing Steve’s shoulder, eyes full of words he couldn’t say. “Good.” He walked over to Tony and grabbed the chain linking his wrists.

“That’s not-” Tony started, but Thor was already ripping them apart. He snapped the chain links off the cuffs, muscles straining, but the steel submitting to them.

“Sit,” Thor ordered, and Tony did. The king knelt, wrapped one arm around the blacksmith’s leg and gripping the cuff on his ankle. Then he yanked the chain off that as well and threw it aside. “We’ll get those cuffs off at the castle,” he promised, standing and offering his hand. “For  now we must go.”

Steve picked up the shield and sword, sliding the weapon into  its sheathe and handing it to its maker. “Are they all this strong?” he asked, looking around the room at all the weapons hung up here.

“Just this one,” Tony shook his head proudly, strapping the weapon to his back and walking to his desk. “HYDRA had me make those ones, but they’re all normal steel. This one isn’t even a finished product.” He tapped the hilt, rolling up parchments and stuffing them in his pockets. “I can make better.”

Steve ran to the door for the armor he’d shed, pulling the breast plate over his shirt and strapping it on. He turned back and watched Thor lift Thomson’s body carefully off the floor and carry him solemnly out. Steve tightened his grip on the shield on his arm and took the lead, drawing his own sword and holding it at the ready. Nobody stopped him, Tony sliding quietly into the rear and Thor bearing his burden in silence.

The fight was almost over.  Asgard’s warriors had driven HYDRA back, had slain them and freed the prisoners. The last few enemy soldiers were falling when the trio descended from the stair case and walked through the battlefield which had consumed most of the first floor. Steve tried not to look, but he couldn’t stop himself from searching for Asgardian armor among the enemy.

Two had fallen, Thomson and another. A soldier came to take the body from Thor, laying it beside the other and wrapping it in cloth on the grass where the horses were waiting. All the freed prisoners were huddled nearby, those who needed help being aided by soldiers to mount the horses while the others walked behind. There was no time to mourn, not when there were soldiers who needed to get back and have their wounds seen to.

Steve was about to lead his horse over to the rescued prisoners and offer someone take it, but Thor was taking his shoulder. “I will ride with you,” he said quietly, squeezing firmly. He looked weary, even though the battle appeared to have barely taxed his body. His eyes were haunted. Steve nodded and watched the king lead his own horse over to Tony to ride. The blacksmith gratefully pulled himself into the saddle and joined the ranks.

All-in-all, things had gone quite well. They finished what they came to do. It didn’t feel like a victory though, not when Thor’s expression was so defeated. He held out his hands without a fuss, bending a bit so Steve could step into them. He did, grateful for the boost, and got settled.

“Let me in front,” Thor looked up at him. “You’re exhausted.”

He was. Steve hadn’t realized how hard he’d been breathing until now, as he came down from the adrenaline rush and the shock. His chest felt tight, and he couldn’t get a word out, so he just nodded and shoved back. Thor mounted in front of him and took his arms, drawing them around his waist.

“Rest,” he ordered quietly, leaning forward and pulling Steve with him, rubbing his thumbs across his knuckles. Both their hands were bloody and dirty. “Rest, please.”

Steve wrapped his arms tighter around his friend and squeezed. He didn’t know what to say, but he could do this. He could feel the grief contained in Thor’s body, even  through his cape and his armor. There was no resistance when he wove his hands free of Thor’s and wrapped them around the king’s instead, long fingers weaving in with Thor’s larger ones. He held on tight and leaned forward, resting his head on Thor’s back. This was nice. He could catch his breath like this. He didn’t even mind that everyone would see him like this as Thor pulled ahead and took the lead. Steve just focused on his breathing and hugged his friend tirelessly.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few answers.

Everything was moving all at once, people going this way and that. Soldiers rushed out to help their returned  companions dismount, helping those who were injured into the castle. The horses were taken away, and the rescued prisoners guided off to be seen to in any way they needed. Thor had immediately straightened the second they were in sight of the castle, and was now making sure that things were flowing smoothly, that no-one was forgotten.

Natasha and Clint were rushing out to greet them, coming straight over. They gave Steve nods, which he returned, proudly standing tall.

“This is Tony,” Thor gestured to the blacksmith, who was dismounting beside  them. “Give him whatever he needs, find him a room.” His friends didn’t argue, giving their king quick, concerned glances but obeying. They led Tony away, and now it was just the two of them. 

Steve looked up, amazed by the willpower with which Thor could cover his grief, but able to see through the layer of confidence over top. He knew it was a ruse. He knew how much the king cared for his people, especially for those who had pledged to him their lives. “Are you hurt?” He asked quietly, realizing he hadn’t actually asked. Thor was filthy from battle, but it was impossible to tell if any of the blood was his.

Thor took pause, and he actually didn’t seem to know. He opened his mouth.

Steve took charge. He wasn’t entirely sure what compelled him to guide the king into his own castle, but he did it, wrapping his hand around Thor’s wrist and pulling. “Come on,” he urged quietly, mindful that there were other people around, and though Thor was his friend, he was still the king, and there was still public etiquette to remember.

“You’re bleeding.” Thor trailed along a couple of steps and stopped, taking Steve’s hand off his wrist and pulling him back gently, but with urgency.

Oh, the cut on his hand. “It’s alright,” Steve reassured. “It’s not that deep.”

“It should be tended,” Thor shook his head, staring to walk again but not letting go.

“Bruce will be busy.” Steve shook his head, even though he knew he should at least clean the dirt out of it. He’d already danced with infection too intimately.

“I’ll see to it,” Thor insisted, and Steve had to admit he’d like that, just the two of them.  Besides, his friend looked like he needed to get away from all this. Steve wanted that too.

They walked, slipping by swarms of people coming to help, or already on their way to get medical attention and other amenities. The hallways were quiet once they reached Thor’s room. The king entered and pulled Steve inside, already starting to come apart at the seams as he guided his friend to the table.

“Sit,” Thor ordered, undoing his cape and draping it over another chair. “I’ll be right back.”

Steve obeyed, working on the buckles of his armor while he waited. His tremor had improved considerably, but it was worse again now. Fatigue, he reasoned, and anxiety. Perhaps a little fear, too. His heart was still racing from adrenaline. He couldn’t help but feel that Thomson’s death was partly his fault. After a few more minutes, Steve gave up with his armor, dropping his hands into his lap to wait. They were filthy, smeared with his own blood and probably a bit of Thomson’s too, as well as plenty of dirt. His muscles were already starting to feel sore from working so hard. His week of training had helped reduce that, but it had still been too long since he’d worked this hard to avoid some suffering afterward. His bruised shoulder and stomach were particularly adamant.

The door creaked open and Thor walked in, carrying a full basin of hot water like it was nothing, a canvas bag over his shoulder. He set the water on the table, shaking the wood with its weight. “You should get clean,” he suggested, pulling a couple of cloths off his shoulder and setting them beside the basin.

Steve nodded. “Can you help me? I can’t get the buckles,” he admitted quietly. Really, he knew he could have if he’d kept at it, but this was alright. He was okay with this.

Thor pounced on him, at his side in a second and loosening the straps. He was careful and gentle removing the breast plate, sliding it over Steve’s head and setting it aside. The king got to his knee and took Steve’s arm, turning it over and working off the bracer. He didn’t say a word, deeply focused on his work. The last  strap came off, and Steve looked up, reaching out with his bare hands and grabbing the collar of Thor’s armor. He shuffled forward on the chair and pulled the king into his chest, Thor’s head pushing into his solar plexus. Thor collapsed forward into the hug, wrapping his arms cautiously behind Steve’s back, while Steve hugged his head into his body.

“It’s not your fault,” he whispered. “It’s alright.”

“I gave the order,” Thor murmured into his chest weakly, his voice rough. “I ordered him to go with you, and he died for it. I killed him. It’s my fault.”

“It isn’t,” Steve shook his head, pulling out the tie and all the little braids in Thor’s hair, threading his fingers through the strands and stroking them smooth. “It’s not your fault. If anything, it’s mine. If I’d fought a little harder, he might not have been so outnumbered. If I’d thought quicker, or not come at all... I forced you to make that choice. It’s really not your fault.”

At that, Thor looked up, his face still dry but his eyes red and threatening to spill gathering tears. “No. No, Steve, it isn’t your fault. You found a way to get in and rescue the prisoner. You fought as hard as you could, I know it. It’s not your fault.”

“Then it’s not yours either,” Steve smiled sadly, adamant. “I was with him.”

“Had you not come, I’d have sent someone else with him,” Thor insisted.

“Then it really isn’t your fault,” Steve shook his head. “You got all those people out. You rescued a  _ lot _ of people, Thor.” 

Thor was looking up at him with  shame. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry I hadn’t acted sooner. Perhaps I could have found the other bases and rescued you-”

“You did.” Steve shook his head. “You did rescue me.”

“Before-”

“You rescued me.” Steve pulled Thor’s head back into his chest. “You can’t be everywhere at once, Thor. And you can’t save everyone.”

That was the harsh truth of it. Thor shuddered and leaned into the embrace, weak with self-loathing. “What if I had done better.”

“You can only do what you can.” What if Steve had tried to escape earlier? He and Bucky might have been able to run further, together. They might be living happily in  Asgard now, unbranded and alive. He wished he’d have at least tried. How could he not? But it was done, and he would only lose himself to the constant guilt of actions he couldn’t have possible known the outcomes for. All he could work with was the now.

“You are a very brave warrior,” Thor whispered reverently.

Steve smiled at that, struggling for a response. “I almost got my ass beat,” he chuckled. “You saved me.”

The smile Thor gave him when he pulled away made his heart swell. The king wiped at his eyes, lighter now that he’d gotten what he needed to off his chest, voiced his concerns. “You were doing quite well on your own,” he praised, lifting off his knee and rising slowly, offering his hands. “Though you could use some more training, certainly.”

Steve grinned at that, standing and walking around the table to the basin. Thor politely turned away and started to take off his own armor, his smile soft and pleased, still touched with sadness and regret, but improved. In the safety of this room and its company, Steve drew his shirt over his head and dropped in on the chair by the king’s cape. It was too dirty to put back on, but he felt a bit better about exposing his scarred back, even though it was still uncomfortable.

He grabbed a cloth and soaked it, swiping it carefully over his torso. His stomach and shoulder were colorfully decorated with deep bruising, and he carefully pushed on his gut to make sure he hadn’t ruptured anything. Everything was as soft as it should be. Steve sighed with relief and continued to wash. The water quickly clouded with dirt and blood. Upon exposing it, he realized the cut on his hand was a lot deeper than he’d first though. The aggravation had pulled the edges apart, and it was bleeding again. Steve pushed the cloth into it and looked up.

Thor’s huge shoulders were bare, bone and muscle rippling under smooth, pale skin as he dug in his dresser for some clean clothes. It was mesmerizing, all those shapes stretching and flexing. How was it that a warrior like Thor had such flawless skin? Steve searched for a scar, but couldn’t find a single one. It took too long to realize he was staring. “I’m done,” he croaked quietly, and Thor straightened, placing the shirt he’d just picked on his bed and walking over with a smile. The front of him was unblemished too, swelling with power Steve had only seen a glimpse of, all of it so perfectly contained within that body, at the control of man too kind for words.

Thor approached him, reaching out for his injured hand and holding it in his own, carefully pulling back the cloth to inspect it. He pushed it back in place and guided Steve’s other hand to keep the pressure. “Hold it,” he instructed. “Let me get clean. Then I will see to it. Does it hurt?” He was already grabbing the other cloth and dunking his arm into the water.

Steve shook his head and flexed his fist. His hand was a little sore, and the cut stung, but it wasn’t too bad. His bruises and abused muscles hurt more. “A little.” He sat back in his chair and flatted his hand to his chest, pushing the other into the cut.

Thor’s eyes darted to his stomach as he washed up his arm, worry flashing across his face. “Are you certain you’re alright?”

“Yeah,” Steve smiled. “I’m okay. Promise.” That was something he couldn’t take for granted.

That was enough for Thor. He relaxed and nodded, shutting his eyes a moment as he kept washing, working all the dirt out of the grooves of muscle in his chest. He cleaned his face, and when he straightened, he looked much more like himself. His eyelashes were dark and heavy with water, his damp hair swept over his shoulders and all the swells of his body glistening in the moonlight from the window. Now that he was clean, the cuts and scrapes were clear to see. There were a few on his face, others on his arms, and a bruise along his side. The worst was the cut in his bicep, but it already looked aged, the edges long-sealed. The marks on his face, too, weren’t as raw as they should be. They looked at least twice as old as they were. The bruises, too, were a deep healing brown, already fading.

“Your arm...” Steve nodded to it.

Thor looked at it, noticing it and the other marks visible. “Oh.” He turned back and batted a hand. “Do not concern yourself with it. It will be gone in a couple of days.”

Steve nodded mutely, unsure what to say but accepting the statement. He didn’t doubt it. The king padded over and tugged over a chair, flipping open the bag he’d stuffed with supplies and laying out what he needed. He must have done a small raid of Bruce’s shelves. Thor took Steve’s hand and set his arm across his lap. He meticulously folded a piece of cloth and tipped a bit clean water into it from a canteen. Then he added a couple of plants and rubbed it into a paste.

“This’ll sting,” he warned quietly, exposing the cut and pushing his compress over top. It did sting, but it was nothing compared to how his back had felt. Steve didn’t flinch, watching stoically. Thor’s hands were impossibly soft. They  _ shouldn’t _ be that soft, but they were. There were no scars, no calluses.

“You’re not... normal, are you.” Steve immediately winced at his wording, flushing a bit with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean... you’re... well...”

“Different?” Thor looked up, an amused smile on his lips as he started to wrap a bandage over the compress. “You’re correct. There are things I haven’t told you about me. I assure you I was not trying to hide them from you... But it is not a story I ever find easy to tell.”

“The paintings...” Steve tried. “They’re real.”

Thor nodded. “Some more than others. Though I loathe the embellishments, mine is not far from the truth.”

“ So magic really does exist.” He’d always been aware that it might, but he’d never seen any.

“Some of it does,” Thor agreed, finishing off the bandage neatly and making steady eye contact. “Magical creatures like the frost giants or dark elves are very real. The threats you see my father and every king before him fighting in those paintings existed. But most of the relics they fought for were not magical in the least. They’re all in the vault, and they’re all useless.”

Steve was happy to leave his hand resting in Thor’s grip, and the king didn’t take it away, so neither did Steve. He met his friend’s gaze, eyebrows slightly furrowed. “But you can lift boulders, and break steel, and you don’t scar.”

“No, I don’t,” Thor agreed, looking at their tangle of hands rested in his lap. He looked confused in his own actions as he rubbed along Steve’s long fingers, exploring the bony knuckles curiously. “I heal quickly, and I don’t tire easily. I can’t get sick, or develop infections, and I can run faster than a horse.”

None of it was said as a boast, and it wasn’t much of a surprise, either. Not when Steve had seen evidence of this with his own eyes. “How...?”

“A long time ago,” Thor stood up, the sadness back with a vengeance in his eyes, his shoulders, and the way he loped over to his bed for his shirt. “ Asgard was under attack. We were at war with the frost giants – the creatures in the painting.”

Steve stood up and followed, watching Thor pull on his shirt, and taking the one offered to him. It was too big, but it was comfortable and smelled like Thor. He stayed quiet, watching his friend sit on the edge of his bed almost delicately. He followed suit, easing in close and pushing their thighs together.

Thor clasped his hands in his lap. “We were bound to lose,” he whispered, as if speaking too loudly might invoke the return of that particular enemy. “There are many legends written into ancient texts, many of which turn out to be mistranslated, or simply invented. But there was one which _ had _ to be true. It was our only option, a place one could go to be judged by a higher power, and if deemed Worthy, would be given power beyond what mortal men possessed.”

“ So you went there,” Steve coaxed, sliding his hand across his thigh, across Thor’s much thicker one, and rescuing one of the king’s worrying hands. He wrapped his around it tightly. He needed it, wanted it. They both did.

Thor swallowed roughly and rubbed his nose. “Father refused to allow me to seek out this place. He called it a fool’s errand and forbit that I search for it when I was needed here to defend the castle. I was one of  Asgard’s best warriors. But in my  heart I knew I had to go. If I didn’t,  Asgard would fall anyway. The frost giants were too strong.  So I left. I snuck out of the castle on my own and found my way there. It was real, Steve. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, but I couldn’t stop to admire it.”

And that place, that higher power, had deemed Thor Worthy. Worthy of power and resilience beyond what any man would ever obtain by his own efforts. Steve squeezed the hand in his custody, filled with awe and admiration, but not at all surprised. In fact, he’d have been stunned if one of the kindest, most thoughtful people he’d ever met  _ hadn’t _ been judged as anything but Worthy, whatever that meant. “What happened next?” he asked quietly, fearing the answer.

“I returned,” Thor’s whispered quieted further. “In time to join my family and every able-bodied soldier in battle. My mother was a skilled sorceress, and had been teaching my brother her magic. Without them we would have surely lost. My father led us against the frost giant army, and we won, but we lost too many. We lost... we lost...” He shivered and put his free hand to his face, the other limp in Steve’s grip.

“You lost them,” Steve finished. There was no answer. He moved a bit closer, unabashed to swap the hand that held Thor’s so he could wrap his arm across his friend’s shoulders. It was a bit of a stretch for his shoulder, but he didn’t care, didn’t think twice about it. And Thor, stronger than any human on the planet, leaned into him for support.

“The battle nearly killed me, too,” Thor rasped wetly under his hand. “But the gift.... it kept me alive, healed me. I woke up, but they were gone. I never got to say goodbye.”

Thor had been exactly in his shoes. Steve squeezed. It should have been comical how much he was trying to wrap his small body around Thor’s huge one, maybe even more comical that it was actually kind of working. Thor was actually folding into him, submitting to his strength and guidance once again. It was a little amazing, really, but Steve didn’t shy away. He held on tighter.

“I miss them every day,” Thor whimpered. “I feel so alone and abandoned all the time. They left me here by myself. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want the throne. People are looking to me for guidance, Steve. They’re pledging to me their lives, and I don’t want to send them into battle knowing they might die, and it was me who sent them there. There are people trying to tell me what to do, for their own benefit, and I no longer trust my own decisions are right. I don’t want this.”

It broke his heart to hear those things. Some of them rang true for him, too. He missed his mother and Bucky every day. He missed his old life in the village with his small family. He’d been happy.

But he was happy here. “I wish there were a way to make it go away,” Steve murmured. He could hear his mother’s voice in his head, and he shut his eyes so he could hear her voice as he stroked Thor’s clean hair for the second time that day. “I can’t make any of this easier, and I can’t take it away.”  _ Just like you can’t heal my back. This is your brand.  _ “I can do my best to help, though.”  _ However _ _ I can. That I can promise.  _ "I know you’re a king... but you can always talk to me.  You’re kind and caring, and you’ve given me more than I could ever ask for. You gave me a new home, and you treated me like your equal. You made me feel capable, even though I’m small and weak and probably shouldn’t be allowed to even pick up a sword.”

Thor sniffed, and it sounded almost like a huff of laughter. “I don’t feel truly alone,” he admitted. “I have my friends. They care for me. And I have you. You are deserving of anything I can provide, Steve. And you aren’t weak.”

Steve smiled and patted Thor’s head. “Same here,” he agreed whole-heartedly. “Not much I can give a king, but you can have it.”

“I would rather have you than a kingdom any day,” Thor sat up now, still in the embrace but searching for eye contact. They were very close. The tension broke as the king leaned over Steve and hugged him possessively, yet still careful of his tender back. How did he always manage to that? “I wish I could deny you the right to fight so I knew you would be safe,” he sighed. “You worry me.”

“Sorry,” Steve admitted bashfully, warm and content. “I... I can’t really defend myself on that. Old habits die hard.”

“As much as I feel the urge to scold you for being reckless, I cannot deny that your spirit gives me strength,” Thor admitted, drawing out of the hug and clasping Steve’s shoulders with a smile on his face. “Look, the moon.” He pointed out the window, and Steve turned to look at it. “It would be a nice night to sit under the stars.” The sun hadn’t quite set yet, but it was still warm enough.

Steve shook his head. “Good night to stay in, I think.”  _ We’re not going to the graveyard. Not tonight. _

Thor didn’t argue. He just nodded with a bit of a sigh. “You may be right,” he agreed. “I will bring us some dinner. Will you stay here with me...?”

“Of course,” Steve agreed. “Of course.”

The king brightened at that and dashed off to find them something to eat, returning in a flash with plenty of food for both of them. They sat on his huge bed, watching the dying daylight and resting their battle-worn bodies and spirits. Well, Steve’s body was the only one that was worn. They found solace in each other, and when stories came up of the past, they were happy ones. Thor happily launched into exuberant tales of the mischief he and his brother had gotten up to, and Steve was happy to listen, telling a couple of his own about him and Bucky. 

It was an enjoyable evening, enough to bring them down that last bit from the fight. And when Steve couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore, and had to submit to his sore and weary body, Thor folded back the covers for him and wordless ushered him under, arranging the pillows and tucking him in. Steve didn’t argue, shutting his eyes. Thor moved around the room, quietly putting away a few things before he crawled into the other side of the bed. It was a big bed, with plenty of room. Thor gave him his space, but reached out and placed a hand on top of Steve’s, squeezing gently. Steve smiled a little as he drifted off. His sleep was peaceful.


	12. Chapter 12

The Fall celebration was almost upon them, and the kingdom could use a little festivity. Thor could use some too, even though there was still a lot of work to do, and the approach of war would never stop nagging in the back of his head. What the people needed was a reassurance, citizens and soldiers alike.

The council had been quiet lately, keeping mostly to themselves during tactical meetings. That worried him, but he did his best to ignore it as much as he could for now. He made sure there was someone he trusted near the inventor at all times, just in case, just to satisfy the twisting in his stomach that something was wrong. He did the same for Steve, too, though he spent so much of his time with his friend anyway that he hardly needed to worry.

Steve had officially joined training now. He’d been a little embarrassed to find out that Natasha and Clint had spotted him sneaking into the soldiers’ ranks for that first week, but had been grateful they hadn’t said a word. Thor had had half a mind to warn his men to go easy on Steve, worried they might be too hard on him without knowing that he was less than healthy, but that wouldn’t have been right. Steve was doing just fine anyway, and the others treated him with respect. There was no need to intervene whatsoever.

Steve had a long way to go before he was a match for any one of Thor’s soldiers, but he was the most determined of them all, and would probably have trained himself to death if there wasn’t anyone there to stop him. He was always bruised, always a little short of breath, but had put on a bit of healthy weight around his thin bones. His skin was a little darker, too, from being out in the sun so much of the day.

Today’s training was over. Now that meetings were less frequent, Thor spent that time helping train with Natasha and Clint. Often, he ended up in a demonstration with Nat – was it just him or was she working a bit harder than usual? Oh well, that was fine; it gave him more avenues to show off a bit, which he found himself more and more inclined to do anyway. Regardless of who won, Steve was always staring with wide awe-filled eyes and parted lips. It was the first time he’d felt such an urge to show off what he could do.

He’d been afraid to tell Steve about his gift – he didn’t want Steve to think of him differently, but that hadn't happened at all. It was possible his admission had nothing to do with it, but Steve was more open and trusting about his showing his back or admitting when it was sore. He’d shown up a couple of times now in Thor’s doorway, admitting a bit bashfully that his back was really aching.  Of course Thor had brought him in, had helped him strip from the waist up and laid him out on his bed. Cold water usually did the trick. He did his best not to make a fuss, maintaining casual conversation while he gently dabbed a cloth across the scars.

As usual after a couple hours of hard training, Steve was soaked with sweat and breathing hard. It took him a long time to come back down to normal, but he always looked elated. It never seemed to matter how well he performed (though frankly all Thor could see was that iron-strong determination). He was grinning right now, staggering over and wiping his forehead on his sleeve. He dragged his forelock out of his face, only for it to flop right back into his eye.

Thor was too eager to lead him away, smiling at Steve’s own wide smile. “Well done,” he chuckled, forgetting all about the other soldiers as they went off to find food. “Come on. Let’s have some lunch.”

Steve nodded, panting.

They walked at a leisurely pace back to Thor’s room, where a basin of water and some cloths were already waiting. Steve usually didn’t need any help, but he never turned it down when Thor approached with needy fingers, loosening buckles more because he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, but wanting to be close. He knew training made Steve’s arms sore, reaching over to take the  hem of his friend’s shirt and drawing it over his head.

Steve stuck his face right in the water and had a long drink before starting to clean himself. He plunged his head into the water and brought it up, shaking out his hair in a flurry of droplets before scrubbing his face. 

It took Thor a moment to realize he’d just been standing here, staring. “You’re incredible,” he blurted, and Steve paused, lowering the cloth and looking over. His cheeks were red from rubbing, water dribbling down his forehead. It clung to his dark  eyebrows and lashes, dripping off his nose and chin, his lips shining pink. He cocked his head a little and opened his mouth, confusion sparkling in his eyes and a blush creeping all the way up his torso and into his face. Thor hurriedly jumped in to save himself. “I mean... You look... good.  _ Really _ good.”  Somehow he’d forgotten every word he knew. “It’s quite astonishing.”

Whatever Steve had been about to say, he’d forgotten it, standing there in shocked silence instead, mouth open and his whole body a tomato color. “I...” he stammered, swallowing. “Really?”

“Absolutely.” Thor smiled back. It wasn’t much, and probably wouldn’t get to be much more, but Steve had put on a little bit of muscle. All the bones in his arms didn’t stand out so much, and his ribs didn’t look like they were trying to push out of his body. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him, no matter how much food Thor got him to eat, but he looked nothing like the man who had arrived in this castle, in every way. He was standing straighter, which Thor somehow doubted had much to do with his back. His eyes were brighter, and his lips easier to coax into a smile.

Those lips were smiling now. “Thanks,” Steve replied quietly.

They cleaned and changed. Thor exchanged his training armor for his jacket, and Steve pulled on his own shirt and jacket, resting his new glasses on his nose. When he wore them, his eyes opened up, bigger and bluer behind the lenses. Thor hadn’t really noticed how much Steve had been squinting and rubbing between his eyes until he wasn’t. It was a shame he couldn’t do anything for Steve’s deaf ear, but at least he’d been able to do what he could. That was his pleasure. He had already found his old winter clothing from when he was younger, preparing to hand them over when the weather got cold enough. He could already imagine Steve in his bed, wrapped up in soft, warm furs and quilts...

Thor shook his head to clear it, leading his friend to the door while his brain rifled through his wardrobe. He had lots of old clothes tucked away somewhere. He could already see one of Loki’s blue and gold jackets from his younger years. It would fit Steve just right, he was sure of it. “There’s a party in a few days,” he announced. “Our annual celebration of the beginning of Fall. You’re welcome to come.”  _ I would be very pleased if you do... _

Steve smiled, a little hesitant. “O-okay. I’ve never been to a party before...”

“It’s not very formal,” Thor reassured quickly. “We fill the halls with food, and people can come and go as they please. There is dancing and celebrating, but people from all over the kingdom come to participate. You can stay as long or as little as you want.” The king, however would have to spend the entire day in the hall, mingling with his people. In the past, as was tradition, young women would often arrive in the attempt to make a good impression with the unmarried princes. Father had encouraged it. Mother too, and though she had never been as adamant, Thor had always suspected that she hoped her boys would find wives sooner rather than later. She’d never been one to push, but she’d certainly wanted grandchildren. And Father had wanted heirs.

Now, with the gift, Thor wasn’t concerned about how quickly he ensured there was someone to take the throne when he was gone. Actually, it wasn’t on his mind at all. The gift would continually revitalize his body, keeping him alive for centuries to come. Marrying someone would be... unwise.

“I’ll come,” Steve agreed, even though he still looked unsure. “Sounds like fun.”

“It is,” Thor agreed, and it really was. Watching his people dance and laugh and eat always lifted his spirits. It would lift them even more to see Steve there too.

After lunch they found themselves in Steve’s room. Steve flopped onto his bed with a sigh and lay back against the pillows, drawing up his knees so he could rest his drawing book against his legs. He picked up his charcoal pencil and started to draw. Even with his persistent tremor, he was a good artist. Thor wondered what his work had looked like when his hands had been steady. Regardless, he was always impressed whenever Steve let him catch a glimpse of the pages. The book must be almost full. He made a mental note to make a trip into the city to buy a few more. 

Thor leaned on the window and looked out, relaxed and content. “What do you plan to do for the rest of today?” He looked back.

Steve  shrugged, eyes fixed on his paper. “Thought I might go for a walk later.”

“Perhaps I will join you,” Thor smiled. “If you like. I have a few things to attend to before then, but I should be done by supper.”

Steve mumbled his reply, lost in his work. Thor watched him, fixated on his friend’s furrowed eyebrows and deepening frown of concentration. Steve’s eyes briefly flicked up to his face, and he looked away as fast as he could, staring around the room and leaning casually on the windowsill. When he felt brave enough to look back, Steve’s expression was more twisted with frustration than concentration. He released a sigh of defeat and set down the book, stretching out his legs and dropping his hands to his sides.

“Are you alright?” Thor asked, concerned.

“Can’t get the lines, that’s all,” Steve sighed again. He sat up off the pillows and rubbed his face. “I can’t draw the fine details.” He reached out and shut the book before Thor could get a good look at the portrait drawn on the page.

Thor searched for signs of distress, but Steve looked more exasperated than distraught. The king sat on the bed beside him. “You’ve made incredible progress,” he encouraged.  _ But this might be a stalemate. Perhaps you won’t get any better. _

“I know,” Steve rubbed his knuckles. “I just wish I could draw the way I used to. It’s really frustrating not being able to do all the fine lines in a person’s face. I want them to be smooth, but they just look... like a child drew them.”

“I don’t think so,” Thor argued. “It could be a new style. Wobbly lines have character.”

“Not the character I want...”

“Perhaps what you need is a different tool,” Thor suggested, standing up. “Come on. Let’s see what we can find.” He held out his hand commandingly, leaving Steve no choice but to take it.

It had been some time since anybody had employed the royal painters to paint anything. Thor hadn’t even asked them to make his painting himself. He forgot who exactly had been responsible for having that piece made. All he knew was that there were supplies left over. He didn’t know much about art, but he did know it was easier to get away with a lack of fine detail in a painting. Maybe what Steve needed was to learn a new medium that would be more forgiving of his shaking hands.

He didn’t let go of the hand that found his. He pulled Steve to his feet, leading his friend through the castle corridors and into the special room where they kept all the painting supplies. Light shone through a big window, wood and rolled canvas stacked in the corner. There were shelves and shelves of supplies, stools neatly stored in the corner for artists and subjects to use.

Steve pulled away. He’d been in good spirits lately, and even this hadn’t been enough to really bring him down, but he was instantly brightening, striding right for the easel. “I’ve never used paints before,” he breathed, taking in the room with awe. “Paints must be expensive-”

“Which is why they shouldn’t be sitting around unused,” Thor drew a stool under Steve and pushed him down, reaching over and adjusting the easel. “It will be good for the economy for you to use them.” He wasn’t going to take no for an answer. He found a stretched canvas in the corner and set it on the easel. Steve watched him pull up a table and set out some brushes and a board for paints. He was speechless as Thor pulled out jars of pigmented powder. “I’ll get you some water, stay here.”

Before Steve could protest, he took off. In no time he found a couple of small buckets and filled them, tucking some rags in his belt before hurrying back to Steve.

“Are you sure this is okay...?” Steve watched  him, a brush already held tentatively in his hand. “I’ve really never done this before...”

“ Of course it’s alright,” Thor laid out the rags and beamed at his friend. He gestured with his hand. “Look at all this supplies, unused. No-one will miss it. And even if they did, I’m the king. I can do what I like. Just like I can order you to at least give it a try. If you don’t like it, that’s alright. But at least have a go.”

Steve glanced at the paints in longing, still apprehensive. “Just because you’re king you think you can tell me what to do?” There was a flash of cheekiness in his eyes, and in his lips.

“Exactly,” Thor grinned.  _ There you are. That’s my Steve.  _ "Brush, paint.” He pointed. “I’ll leave you to it, but I expect to see something on that canvas when I return.”

The slight frantic edge in Steve’s voice made his heart swell. “You’ll be back...?”

“For dinner,” Thor nodded. “I promise.”

Steve’s smile was prettier than the sunlight streaming through the window.

\--

Thor didn’t want to feel too satisfied that they were one black chess piece fewer on the map, but he knew he had to afford himself a little bit of pride. Steve was right: he’d saved a lot of people. He deserved to feel a small spark of victory in his chest, though he was careful not to let it burn too brightly lest he get complacent – there was no risk of it getting out of hand, that was for sure. The battle was letting himself enjoy any amount of this undeniable win.

_ Won the battle, yet to win the war.  _ No, he couldn’t let himself enjoy this beyond that tiny, tiny flame of pride.

But what he  _ could  _ be proud of was Steve’s glowing smile. He could see it in his head. It took one long look from Sitwell for him to realize he was just staring at the map and grinning to himself. Thor straightened and fell serious again. “We will send one more group of scouts to collect as much information as we can on the base,” he confirmed. “We can make our decision based on the information they return with.”  _ We’ll tear it down, too. And the next, and the next, and as many as there are left.  _ He couldn’t bear the thought of people like Steve trapped in cells, tortured and forced to fight by HYDRA. He tried to keep his anger stuffed away, or at least out of his expression and posture, but it was hard.

He needed to be mindful of his advisors, now more than ever. After his attack on the base, they were... different. He wasn’t sure how yet, but they seemed cagey, wary. Scheming. There was no nice way of putting it. Natasha had already explained that one of them had been spotted walking by Tony’s quarters or the forge multiple times. Thor had doubled the guards nearby.

With his orders given, there was nothing more to discuss. Thor walked away, his heart pulling him back up to where Steve was sat painting, but his feet taking him where duty called: Tony.

No doubt about it, the blacksmith was a genius. It was no wonder HYDRA had wanted him. The metal he forged was stronger than the ordinary steel Asgardian weapons and armor – and HYDRA’s, and anyone’s, really – were made from. Thor walked down the stairs and into the workspace allotted to the blacksmith, knocking on the doorway. Tony’s head lifted from the corner where he was hunched over a glowing blade laid across the anvil, hammer in-hand. He put down the hammer and pushed up his goggles.

“Your Highness,” he grinned, tugging the goggles back down and picking up his hammer. “Got somethin’ for  ya . You’ll like it. Hang on.” He raised the hammer.

Thor quickly covered his ears and pushed as hard as he could, bracing himself for the clangs to follow. Load noises were often agonizing for his enhanced hearing, and he knew his head would be ringing for hours afterward if he didn’t take precautions. The noise was still audible, the ground vibrating under his boots. He winced and waited patiently for the blacksmith to finish, sighing when it was finally over.

Tony walked around the anvil and plunged the blade into a tub of cold water, dragging his goggles round his neck and watching the steam hiss for a brief moment. “Figured you could probably do some damage with a proper sword,” the blacksmith drew out the blade by the handle, the metal shining clean silver. He walked by and dropped it into Thor’s hand, giving the king a smack on the bicep as he passed. “You could cut through steel with that thing.”

It was terribly well-balanced. Thor admired it, uncaring that the hilt was just bare metal, unfinished. He rolled the blade in his hand and swiped at the air with it. It was light, too. Surprisingly-so. If the unperfected version had managed to cut chains, he wondered what this one could do.

“You need to get a bit of force behind it, but your little friend managed,” Tony shrugged. “That thing should be able to cut steel armor no problem, if you can put enough power behind it.” He walked back over with some materials in-hand and retrieved the sword, laying it across his work bench and inspecting the hilt.

Thor wandered over to watch as the blacksmith chose some leathers and started to wrap the handle. “How many of these can you make?”

“How much material can you get me?” Tony glanced up. “I can make you as much as I can before this war kicks off.”

“I’ll get you as much as you need,” Thor agreed. There was no shortage of steel in  Asgard . It was nothing less than amazing that Tony could take normal steel and transform it into something three times as strong, and a third the weight, without any magic. Just plain old science. Thor had a feeling that if he asked how, he might get an explanation; which was why he didn’t ask. “What are you going to call your material?” he asked instead, glancing around the room. The round shield Steve had borrowed during the attack rested in the corner against the wall.

“This?” Tony tapped the sword he was working on. “Been thinkin’ about it for a while now. Vibranium, I think. I’ll show you a cool trick later, if you want. It absorbs impact like you wouldn’t believe.”

That was a good name. Thor nodded and walked to the corner, picking up the shield and turning it in his hand. It was made of a bronze-colored metal, shiny and worn, and covered in dents. It was plainly decorated, but a good size. Thor turned it in his hand. “May I ask you a favor?” he looked up.

“Shoot,” Tony leaned back and invited with his hand, curiously watching the king play with the shield in his hands.

“Can you make me something like this?” Thor set the shield on an empty corner of table. “Perhaps a little bigger.”

“Course I can,” Tony straightened and picked up the disk to inspect it. “You want a pattern on it, or something?”

Did he? It couldn’t just be plain... Thor frowned and looked around the room. His eyes settled on the crest woven into the scarlet tapestry in the corner. “The Asgardian star,” he pointed. “In the center. Please.”

“Done,” Tony agreed. “Soon as I’m done with this. Should be finished within the week.”

“Thank you,” Thor smiled. It would make an excellent gift to give Steve for the fall celebration.

Tony gave him a knowing smile. “You’re welcome. I’m invited to your party thing, right?”

“Of course,” Thor agreed eagerly. “Of course.”

He bid his farewell and nodded to the two  guards stationed outside, walking off to find Steve. He had no idea what to expect when he opened up the door to the painting room. Was Steve alright? Had he managed to paint anything? What about his hands, were they shaking too badly for him to do that, too? How long would he persevere before he got frustrated? Had Thor given him yet another thing to be let down by?

Steve sat in the stool he’d been left in, a brush in each hand, and another in his mouth. He was totally lost in the canvas, rotating between those three brushes, a smear of blue paint rubbed across his temple, and a splatter of green on his chin. His hands were covered in reds and yellows, and the colors he wore on his face – he must have rubbed it, and left the stain. His eyes were as focused as Thor had ever seen them, darting from the canvas to the palette of colors he’d mixed for himself.

Thor knocked politely on the door and shut it behind him, eager to see what his friend had made, but resisting the urge to run over. Instead, he kept his cool and strolled leisurely over, smiling as Steve looked up to see him there. “Having a good time?” he asked, almost thrown off guard by how sharply those blue eyes locked onto his. They were so bright, and bluer than anything he’d ever seen.

Steve glanced out the window, then smiled back. “Lost track of time, so... yeah. I’m... This is really fun. I think it’s kinda working.” He looked a little bashful about that, leaning back in his seat and blushing a bit as he bit his lower lip.

Thor walked over to have a look, and the colors that greeted him were exuberant, yet harmoniously balanced. The lights, the darks, the fading of saturation absorbing objects in the distance, the glow of daylight and the shadows it cast. Everything Steve couldn’t have shown in his drawings, shaking hands or not, was on display here. It was clear his friend was no master of the paints themselves, but he so  _ could _ be,  _ would _ be if he kept this up, kept practicing. There was depth, precision, and careful thought put into the layout of the landscape.

Steve had painted the flower fields,  Asgard’s outer wall in the distance, and the rolling mountains behind. The flowers were swaying in a gentle breeze, and the sun was high in a cloudless sky. It was gorgeous and joyful, despite the gravestones smattered within the flowers. As a first painting, it was spectacular. As a  _ painting _ it was spectacular.

And Steve looked so proud, even if he was a bit hesitant, setting down two of his brushes and fiddling with the third in his trembling fingers. He rubbed his face self-consciously, unknowingly smearing more paint along his chin. At the sight of Thor’s awe, he blushed. “I... didn’t know what to paint. It was kinda overwhelming having all these colors, and so many different types of brushes... I had to start over a lot.”

There was evidence of other colors blended under the ones on top, but it didn’t look sloppy. Actually, it only elevated the piece, with that hint of other pigments pushing faintly through the blue of the sky, or mixed so perfectly with the spectrum of the flowers and grass on the ground. “It’s beautiful,” Thor shook his head and turned to smile proudly at his friend. “You truly have a gift.”  _ HYDRA didn’t take this from you. They couldn’t. You are too strong for them, too bright to be crushed by their evil, too stubborn to let them gain an inch against you. _

“I’d really like to come back,” Steve admitted.

“Of course,” Thor agreed. “Absolutely. You can spend as much time as you like here.”  _ Whatever you want, it’s yours.  _ He would do anything to look into Steve’s eyes and see that radiant pleasure.

Steve put down his brush. “Thank you,” he breathed. “Really. This means... more to me than I can tell you.”

“You need not try,” Thor laughed, pink and warm with elation. “The paint on your face speaks for you. Come on, you must be hungry. I know I am. My day was far less enjoyable than yours.”

Steve’s eyes widened, and he rubbed his chin with a clean spot on his wrist, inspected the paint that came away on it.

“I’ll help you get clean,” Thor chuckled, “come on.” Together, they cleaned up the brushes and put everything away, then he led the way out and made sure the door was locked, safely securing Steve’s work inside. In a matter of minutes, they were back in Thor’s room, gathered around some water.

Steve sat to rub paint off his hands, scrubbing the pigment out of the grooves and from under his fingernails. He was still riding the high, but frowned in  commiseration when he looked up. “How’d things go?”

“As well as they could have,” Thor shrugged, rolled up his sleeves and soaking a cloth in water. He walked over and bent, taking Steve’s face and tilting it upward. He brushed aside the bangs, and Steve let him, squeezing his eyes shut. Thor rubbed at the paint, coaxing it off as gently as he could. “It’s much harder to be reserved with my thoughts and emotions. My advisors are making me increasingly uneasy. I’m not sure what they’re trying to do, but I don’t like it. I know they’ll try to make a move soon... I just can’t anticipate what, or to what end.”

“What are you planning?” Steve asked, tipping his head into Thor’s hand as the king rubbed away the mark on his forehead, adorably compliant. Thor wasn’t sure what had compelled him to do this, nor why the vehemently self-sufficient Steve was letting him almost readily.

“I must be more forward,” Thor explained, dipping the cloth and squeezing it out before going back at the particularly stubborn stain. “With better preparation, we should be able to take down the other bases as we did before. Word must have reached them, though, so we must be more careful.”

“They’ll know you came,” Steve agreed. “They’ll be ready for you.  Gotta take them by surprise.”

“It is likely,” Thor agreed. They’d left no survivors, but surely HYDRA scouts would be sent out, would find the carnage and make guesses. They would find the split chains on the top floor. He finished with the last of the paint and dabbed away the water with his sleeve. “All clean,” he smiled.

Steve opened his eyes and smiled back, wiping the last bits of paint off his hands and putting the cloth on the table beside the others.

They sat on the edge of Thor’s bed to eat, watching out the window as the sun started to set. Afterward, they went for a brief walk around the castle grounds. Conversation was light and cheerful, and Steve laughed like a man three times his size, throwing back his head and cackling at a comment Thor had made, tears in his eyes. They walked until the breeze grew cold, and Steve shivered into his jacket.

It was getting dark earlier every night, and the air was turning colder. Bruce’s words were starting to clutch at his mind, about Steve getting sick. The doctor had warned that Steve might not be able to shake off another bout of illness, that his body had been so weakened by what had been done to him that he was vulnerable. With the cold came sickness. That was why it came as a great relief that when Thor folded back the blankets, Steve didn’t hesitate to crawl under. Thor would keep him warm. The gift helped him maintain body heat, had turned him into a furnace, a bubbling fountain of life. He was constantly radiating heat. If anyone could make sure Steve stayed warm even on the coldest nights, it was him. He didn’t even mind keeping an extra blanket over them, even if it was too hot for him under it. Steve was warm, sleeping deeply beside him. They were so close to each other...

Thor didn’t need much sleep, but he was happy to lie here for hours just watching Steve’s relaxed face. Unable to hold himself back, as it happened every night that Steve fell asleep in his bed, he reached out and brushed his knuckles up and down the other man’s cheeks, stroking aside his bangs. He could see perfectly well in the dark, could admire Steve’s heavy eyelashes and his dark, emotive eyebrows. Steve said so much with his eyebrows... Thor rubbed his thumb across them one at a time, ran it up the bridge of Steve’s slightly crooked nose.

How had he gotten like this, so totally lost in another person? He couldn’t think of war, or strategy, or whatever scheme his advisors had planned. All he could see was Steve. Nobody had ever inhabited his heart this completely. Nobody had captured his curiosity quite like the man beside him. Nobody had ever made his heart race the way it was now. Nobody had ever left him feel so completely exposed, so unguarded. 

It was hard, but Thor sighed and shut his eyes. He had to rest, even if he wanted to watch Steve sleep all through the night. He didn’t have to let go  though . The king moved down his hand, resting it around Steve’s, needing to be close. Steve didn’t  _ need _ protecting, but Thor would protect him from the world.

\--

The scouts were back, and they were back quickly. The next nearest HYDRA base was the one which Steve had escaped from.

“As far as the soldiers know, this HYDRA base hasn’t heard about our attack yet,”  Stane explained, relaying the information the soldiers had told him upon their return. “They won’t see us coming.”

Thor gripped the table and stared at the pieces laid out on the map. They could take another base.

“We suffered minimal losses last time,” Sitwell agreed. “Your attack was successful. We can do it again.”

_ Minimal losses... Two loyal, brave men died.  _ Thor clutched the table harder. Without the audience, he would have scoffed. Death could never be described as ‘minimal’. He knew the numbers were favorable, but he just couldn’t stomach that word. It diminished the sacrifices his men had made. His men had  _ died _ for  Asgard , for those prisoners, and for anyone else on Earth who would be affected if HYDRA won. That was not ‘minimal’.

“We can,” Thor agreed.

“This base a little smaller than the previous one,”  Stane explained. “With fewer prisoners. It’s doable.”

Yes, it would be. Thor was already formulating his own plan. It took everything he had not to blurt it out and storm out. His advisors were watching him. He could see their eyes on his face from his peripheral. They were waiting for his reaction, for his decision. Thor looked up, glancing over at Clint and Natasha.

“Sacrifice will be honored,” Sitwell agreed. “It’s a small price to pay. Any warrior would be proud to die for his kingdom fighting against evil.”

Natasha was walking round the table to him, opening her mouth, but Thor was already speaking. He couldn’t hold himself back anymore. “I’m going,” he growled. “I will attack the base myself.”

“Your Highness-”  Stane opened his mouth, and Thor could see that the surprise on his face was manufactured.

“I can destroy it,” Thor straightened, his body already flexing in preparation. “We need not make sacrifices today. I will go, alone.” He knew he could do it.

Sitwell was opening his mouth too, but Thor didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to hear another word of drivel about sacrifice. He’d made his decision, and he walked out of the room on it.

His friends were on his heels, Natasha reaching for his arm. “Thor,” she said firmly, pulling on him. He was far too strong for her to slow  him. “Thor, stop.”

He didn’t.

“This is suicide,” she insisted. “I know you don’t want to lose any more men, but listen to yourself.  _ Think _ about it! They want you to do this.”

Natasha was far too clever for anything to slip under her radar. Clint, too. The archer came along his other side. “They want you to go. Doesn’t that strike you as odd? Suspicious, even? This is what they  _ want. _ "

“I don’t care,” Thor growled. “Whatever they’re hoping for, they won’t get. You can’t stop me. I leave at midnight.”

“Then let me come,” Natasha insisted. “It’s too dangerous for you to go alone.”

At that, Thor stopped in the hallway and turned to face his friends. He softened. “I need you here to protect the kingdom,” he shook his head. “I can do this. I  _ have _ to do this.”

“You really don’t,” Natasha furrowed her brow. “Thor, you don’t.”

“I do,” he said quietly back. “This is my duty. I can do it, and no-one has to die for it. Not this time.”

“What about you?” Clint folded his arms over his chest.

“I’ll be alright,” Thor nodded. “That’s what this is for, right?” He patted his chest. He was the one with boundless strength. It had to be him. This base was small enough for him to take on alone, and if they hadn’t heard news of the previous attack, he would have the upper hand. They would never see him coming, and by the time they did, it would be too late. He would tear through their ranks and destroy them all.

“It’s not meant to let you get away with hopelessly reckless quests,” Natasha argued. “It’s not meant for this.”

“It’s meant to protect people,” Thor countered easily. He didn’t want to lose any more soldiers. He’d lost too many already. Maybe this was stupid, knowing how many of his men this war would take, but if he could save a few by doing this, it was worth it. “Take care of things,” he nodded. “And keep an eye on Steve for me, will you?”

“Of course,” Natasha agreed with a sad smile. Clint nodded too.

They left him, giving up trying to talk him out of this. Thor turned away. He would leave tonight. For now, he had the rest of the day to spend with Steve. And there was no way he could let his friend find out, because there was a very real risk that the brave man would try to come. That would defeat the purpose. Besides, if he had no-one to keep an eye on over his shoulder, he could really let loose and let the battle consume him. He could destroy this base, he knew it. There was no doubt in his mind.

“You look tense,” Steve raised an eyebrow at him, immediately picking up on his shift of mood.

Thor shook his head with an amused sigh, leading them back to his room. Steve had just finished some work for Bruce, and he smelled faintly of  mint and flowers. “The usual things are irking me,” Thor admitted. “It was more of people trying to tell me what to do, based on ideals I cannot agree with.”

Steve smiled  sympathetically, eyebrows upturned. “Well, you’ve got the celebration to look forward to, right?”

“To a degree,” the king nudged his door open and went straight to the corner for his mandola. “It can quickly become tiresome. Maintaining an image is a skill my parents spent all my life trying to teach me.”

“I think you do pretty well,” Steve waited for him by the door, falling into step at his side when he returned. “Well, I’ll come keep you company. You’re still allowed to have fun, right?”

“Of course,” Thor smiled. “You have no obligation to stay with me. It will be a long day.”

Steve shrugged. “Least I can do. Besides, maybe I’ll have fun too, and you’ll have to drag me to bed.”

Thor fell silent, averting his gaze, lost for a reply. No, he wouldn’t think about that. Why that image was popping into his brain was completely absurd. He adjusted his mandola strap over his shoulder. It had been a while since he’d played. For just a few hours, he could relax, prepare himself for what was to come and enjoy this time with his friend in peace. They walked into the painting room, Steve pulling up his stool and Thor grabbing another and sitting near him. He set his instrument in his lap while Steve set up a new canvas, wet his brushes, and started to mix some paints.

They sat and worked together, happy to just be near each other. Steve spread color across the white, bold and adventurous with his choices, unafraid to try something and go over it if he didn’t like it. Thor watched, his fingers playing a tune of their choice as he watched, mesmerized, at what his friend was making. It was becoming a forest, greens quickly absorbing the canvas and most of the other colors laid down beneath. 

He was going to leave Steve tonight, leave him in his bed asleep, alone, and ride off into the forest. He already felt guilty for it, even though he knew he had to.

They sat in the painting room until sunset. Steve came back with him again, allowed him to help clean away the paint. Thor leaned in when he was done, drawing the other man into a warm hug. Steve reached up and slowly reciprocated, rubbing his shoulder. “You okay?” he asked quietly, too smart and perceptive to miss that something was off, no matter how hard Thor tried to act normal.

Thor savored the embrace a few seconds more before pulling back and clasping Steve by the shoulders. “Very,” he smiled. “Happier than I’ve been in a long time.” That was the honest truth: Steve’s company brought him such indescribable joy. Steve really cared about him.  _ Really _ cared. Had been at his side to comfort and support him, regardless of any gaps between their social classes. With Steve, there were no expectations, just a steady friendship. He’d never felt so connected and relaxed with someone before. The only person who had come close to walking in his shoes was his brother, but that of course had been before Thor had lost his whole family. Besides, this bond he had with Steve was... brotherly, but... not. Different. He wasn’t sure how.

Maybe he should have known, given that Steve was crawling into bed with him. Sure, Thor had comforted his brother through some rough nights, and vise-versa, which sometimes ended in cuddling, but still, this was different again. Even though they were separated by enough space to wedge a third person in between, it was still  _ different.  _ This urge to slide closer and pull Steve into his grip was maddening, and he couldn’t understand why he felt such a strong desire to just be close.

He couldn’t, not tonight. He gripped the covers instead of reaching for Steve’s hand like he usually did, watching his friend sleep while he waited for the right time. When that time came, he slid reluctantly out of bed as quietly as he could. Steve was a deep sleeper, luckily, and Thor was stealthy. Between that and Steve’s deaf ear, Thor had no trouble escaping without the other man stirring. Steve slept on, oblivious, and Thor shut the door behind him.

Natasha was already there, giving him a nod before vanishing into the shadows. Clint was probably around here somewhere. They would keep Steve safe, would explain to him in the morning where Thor had gone. By then it would be too late to come after him. Thor set his jaw and walked off, pushing aside thoughts of Steve and focusing entirely on his mission.

To his surprise, Tony was still up, hunched over some drawings in candlelight. He looked up. “Looks like you’re on a mission.”

“I am,” Thor agreed. “I’ve come to see if I can borrow the sword.”

“You can have it,” Tony pointed to the sheathed blade rested on the table in front of him. The hilt was wrapped in leather. “Least I can do. Little thank-you gift.”

“Thank you,” Thor picked up the sword in his hands, admiring the craftsmanship. It was a beautiful blade.

“Good luck,” Tony gave him a knowing nod, but didn’t ask the questions lingering in his hazel stare. Thor nodded back gratefully, and left.

He went straight to the armory, changing into his simple leather armor, but forgoing the cape. He strapped the sword to his back and pulled bracers onto his arms. That was all he needed. Anything else would only slow him down, and Thor fought his best when he could fully utilize his agility. The king saddled his horse, not bothering with supplies, and rode out into the night,  apprehension weighing heavily on his shoulders despite the steady burn of conviction in his chest.


	13. Chapter 13

Steve woke up to an empty bed. Sometimes Thor got up before him, but he wasn’t waiting by the window, or at the table like he was when he was the first one up.

He shouldn’t be concerned about it. It wasn’t like Steve slept in the king’s bed every night, nor had he been doing it for long enough to claim he knew anything about his morning habits. Thor was a  _ king _ – he could go where he liked, when he liked. 

The covers were tucked warmly around him. Steve lifted himself off the pillows and stared at the empty side of the bed. Thor’s pillow was a little compressed where his head had laid, but when he felt it, it was cold. He rolled out of bed and got dressed, taking off the huge shirt he’d ended up falling asleep in, as he usually did when he spent the night here. He changed into his own clothes and walked to the window, peering out. It was still early enough: the sky was still faintly pink.

Thor usually ate breakfast with him, or at least waited to say good-morning before running off to get done anything he was needed for. Maybe he was busy. Steve sat on the edge of the bed and put on his glasses. There were two keys beside them on the bedside table, and he picked them up and frowned at them. One was for here, the other for the painting room. Steve changed into his own clothes and locked Thor’s room behind him, putting both keys in his pocket, too confused to be worried. But he was getting there.

He had half a mind to check the graveyard, even though they hadn’t spent any time there for a while, but he passed by the infirmary first. Bruce greeted him with a frayed smile. “Morning, Steve.”

Steve nodded back. “Where’s Thor?” he asked. “Has he been by?”

The doctor straightened and took off his glasses, the worry he couldn’t manage to hide making Steve’s stomach churn. “He left,” Bruce explained calmly, as clinically as he could. The effort was useless to hide his anxiety. “Late last night.”

_ Left where? Why...?  _ Steve stared at the doctor, confused more than anything, but a flurry of other emotions quickly overpowering it. “Where did he go?”

Bruce sighed and hung his head, tucking his glasses into his shirt. “Steve... there’s a base nearby. We got some information, and he figured he could take it.”

“He... Not alone...” Steve tasted dread, along with irrational anger at Bruce, at anyone else who would have let their king – their  _ friend –  _ do this. Could they have really stopped him...? He knew probably not, but it didn’t do anything to dull how he felt.

Bruce nodded. “He didn’t want to risk losing anyone else.”

_ Oh, Thor. But what if we lose you? _ “He’ll be alright, though, right...?” Nobody could know that, but maybe it would make him feel better if he asked.

At that, Bruce turned away. “He will be,” the doctor assured, walking to his desk in the corner. “He’ll be alright, Steve. He’s strong, you know that.”

Steve  _ did _ know that, had seen it with his own eyes, but ‘Worthy’ didn’t mean ‘Invulnerable’.  _ Of all the reckless, stupid things...  _ No, that wasn’t fair. Thor wasn’t stupid, just too caring.  Of course he would attack a HYDRA base alone if it meant his soldiers were safe. Steve couldn’t bring himself to feel at ease with the situation, though, regardless of Thor’s enhanced power.

Bruce didn’t look comfortable with it either, but Steve would have been angry if he were. The doctor leaned his hands on his desk, voice quiet and a little fearful. “The advisors manipulated him,” he sighed. “I wasn’t there, but Clint told me what happened... They played to his kind heart.”

_ They figured out how to get to him.  _ Thor wasn’t exactly hard to read, but he’d been trying so hard.  _ Just like he feared.  _ Steve swallowed, paling. There was nothing he could do. Thor was long-gone, the damage done. He would either make it back, or he wouldn’t. “Which base did he attack?” He had to know.

Bruce turned  around, alarm in his expression. “Steve... You know he wouldn’t want you to go. He wouldn’t want you in danger.”

It wasn’t because Thor pitied him, or looked down on him, or thought him incapable. Steve knew that, but he couldn’t help clench his jaw.  _ And what about us? You don’t want any of us to get hurt, but what about you? Don’t you know how much we’ll worry?  _ "I won’t,” he promised in a low voice. “Where did he go.”

Bruce didn’t look like he entirely believed that Steve wouldn’t run off after the king to help, but he answered in resignation. “The base you escaped from,” he sighed. “Please, Steve... he’d want you safe.”

He wanted to run right out of here, saddle a horse and ride as fast as he could in that direction. He wasn’t the strongest warrior, had hardly spent any time learning to use a sword, but  surely he would be better than nothing. Surely Thor would be better off with at least one man to help thin the ranks, to watch his back... Not knowing was the worst; not knowing if Thor was alright, if he was fighting, if he was winning. What if it was too late already?

Steve sighed. “I won’t,” he promised, even though it went against everything he believed in. This was what Thor had wanted, and as much as it hurt him to imagine the man fighting alone, he knew how much it would hurt Thor to lose someone. They had to respect him for his decision, and have faith in his strength. It was all they could do while they waited for his return.

Bruce came back over and squeezed his shoulder, expression sympathetic. “It’ll be alright,” he assured gently. “He’ll be alright.”

Steve nodded mutely. He didn’t know what to do with himself, too worried to think straight, but he paced out of the infirmary and went to find something to busy himself with. Everything felt pointless, an exercise to simply past the time, but he knew he had to keep himself occupied. He ate a hasty breakfast and rushed out to join training, much earlier than everyone else but desperate to distract himself. He was the first one on the grass, wooden training sword in-hand while he waited for the others to join him.

He couldn’t stand idle. Steve gripped the sword and raised it, standing off against an invisible enemy. One, two, three; he raised his aching shoulders over his head with a wince and brought the weapon down in swift strokes, trying to keep them controlled. The range of motion in his arms had greatly improved since he’d been injured, and their strength was better even before HYDRA had done their damage, even though he would never be as strong as his colleagues.

That didn’t matter. Steve changed grips, balancing the sword in deft fingers and swiping to the side, pivoting on one foot. He’d come to accept a long time ago that no matter how hard he  worked, he would never be strong. But he could be fast. Bucky would be proud. His ma would be proud. He knew they were, wherever they were watching from. They would want to see him get back on his feet and fight. And when the war came, maybe it would kill him, and he would get to see them again. But if it didn’t, and he somehow made it out alive? Well, he hoped Thor did too. He owed the king his life.

Not just his life, his heartbeat; Steve owed Thor his well-being, his happiness, the place opened up for him in this new land. A place where he was safe and respected, where nobody mocked him that he was prepared to fight alongside the rest of them. He spun around, cutting a diagonal line through the air with a whistle.

Natasha’s sudden appearance nearly gave him a heart attack. Her wooden sword struck his, and she knocked it aside, flinging his arm away from his body and leaving him wide open. Another swift strike, and she’d disarmed him. “You’re up early. Practicing to fight ghosts? You know, a real person makes for a much better sparring partner.”

Steve panted and shook his head, bending to pick up his sword. “Just jittery. Thought I’d work off my nerves.”

She was early too, significantly more than usual. She hid her emotions well, but a little bled through as she softened and lowered her weapon to her side. “Me too,” she admitted. The moment was gone as quickly as it had come. Natasha straightened again, exuding cool confidence and streamlined power. “I figured you’d be up. Come on.” She turned on her heel, commanding with her posture alone.

Steve followed. There was no way he could refuse. He frowned, confused. “What about training?”

She waved her hand, leading him away from the main training area where the other soldiers would gather and finding a clear spot. The general turned to face him and put down her sword, taking of her jacket. “Clint’s got it,” she explained. “Today, it’s just you and me. You want to learn to fight? I’ll teach you.”

Steve stared at her, confused. “You don’t want me to train with the others...?”

“You’re not like the others.” She rolled up her sleeves, her shirt loose but not enough to hide her slender figure. She wasn’t that much bigger than him, maybe less than an inch taller and no more muscular. “And you’re never going to fight like them, because you just aren’t built the same. That training will work for them, but I won’t work for you, just like it didn’t work for me.”

It was the nicest way anyone had ever called him small and weak he’d ever heard, but she was right.

“Well, you want to fight?” she folded her arms over her chest and captured his attention, demanding it.

Steve nodded in adamant agreement, putting down his sword by hers and standing to attention.

“Good,” she smiled at him, and he saw respect there. “We’ll start simple. Attack me.”

Steve took his stance and set his jaw, giving himself a chance to plan an attack. She was going to beat him no matter what, he knew that, but he could at least give it his best shot. He ran at her, aiming his shoulders for her stomach.

She met him, faster than he’d expected, and unflinching. Without hesitation, she scooped her shoulder into his chest and used his momentum against him, throwing him over her shoulder without the slightest hint of exertion. In seconds, he was flying over her and landing on his back in the grass with a thud and a gasp, all the air knocked out of him. Natasha appeared over him, staring down with mild amusement.

“Nice try,” she smirked, watching him pant for a few seconds more before offering her hand. Her grip was strong as she pulled him to his feet. “But you’re little, and you barely weight more than a kitten. If you try to knock someone over, they’re just  gonna knock you aside, or do what I just did. You’ll run straight into their arms.”

Steve brushed himself off, still panting from his fall. All he could do was nod.

“Always let the other person attack first if it’s a head-on fight,” she continued. “If you can’t take them by surprise, then let them come to you. Let them supply the power, and then use it to your advantage. I’m going to attack you this time.”

Steve prepared himself, and she didn’t give him any time to think, racing toward him, light on her feet. She was fast, her eyes locked right on him, her decision made in a flash. The general dropped under his raised arms, sliding under his guard and sweeping at his heels. Once again, he was on his back, heaving for air.

She hovered over him again, waiting patiently for him to catch his breath. “Hit low,” she advised. “You can get through a taller person’s defenses much easier. Bring them down to your level, even the playing field.”

Steve winced and sat up, accepting her help to stand.

“Again,” she ordered, and was attacking him in a flash.

He moved as fast as he could, wherever his feet took him, which was sideways. She went for his legs like last time, and he dodged her, barely, almost losing his balance. Natasha swiveled and came for him again, swinging a straight punch for his jaw. It wasn’t her style, he could tell, but she wasn’t teaching him to fight her – she was teaching him to fight a normal person. Another soldier, even a civilian.

Steve ducked sideways, all too familiar with flying fists. He let her spin past and jammed his leg between hers, hooking his foot around her ankle and yanking it from under her as hard as he could. Her shoulders pitched forward, so he shoved his elbow into her back and pushed her. Natasha followed through, her momentum carrying her into a neat roll. She was back on her feet in seconds. “Nice work,” her eyebrow twitched. “But you’re going to have to be faster than that. You have good instincts, but no skill. Pick up the sword.” She scooped her foot under hers and kicked it into her hand.

Steve bent down and retrieved his weapon, mirroring her stance as best he could.

Natasha crossed her blade across his. “You need to be fast,” she reiterated, “and you need to keep moving. Don’t rely on your strength; rely on theirs. Don’t try to overpower them.”

Despite her directness, she wasn’t mocking his weaknesses; she was pointing them out so she could work around them and get to his strengths. She didn’t hold back with her attack, putting all her strength behind her swing. He raised his weapon to block, and the impact forced him to stagger back a pace, nearly knocking him right over. He corrected his stance and stabilized himself, but she was on him again, swinging downward.  Again and again, she smashed her sword into his, leaving him no time to retaliate, and barely any time to protect himself. Finally, his hands could no longer hold the weapon, and her next blow knocked it out of his grip. Natasha slashed at his chest, and he barely stumbled backward out of the way, tripping over himself in his haste and falling. In a whistle of air, the tip of her weapon was resting in the dip of his clavicle, his chest heaving from exertion against it.

Natasha stared down the shaft at him. “Sometimes you don’t have to be the most skilled. Sometimes you just have to be relentless.” She let him catch his breath again and helped him up, picking up his sword and handing it to him. “Again.” Steve didn’t back down, setting his jaw and taking back his weapon.

\--

It was midday when Natasha ended their session. “Get some rest,” she ordered. “Stretch, let your muscles recover. I’ll teach you something else tomorrow.”

Steve nodded gratefully, dripping and breathless, but his nerves eased. “Thank you,” he wheezed, trying his best to convey how much this meant to him.

Her smile was slight but knowing. “You’re welcome.” She took his training sword from him, and he was about to go, but she grabbed his wrist and stopped him. Her smile had faded, replaced with something serious. “He’ll be alright,” she promised firmly, even though she looked just as worried as he felt.

“He’d better be,” Steve nodded, and Natasha smiled at that.

“Yes,” she agreed. “Go get something to eat, Steve. Well done.”

Steve did just that, a smile on his lips. He brought as much water as his aching muscles could carry back to his room and stripped off his damp shirt, scrubbing away sweat and dirt. What of his back he could reach was carefully dabbed at. The scars were healed, but too tender to scrub. An extra pair of hands would have been nice, especially for those tender spots too high up his spine to reach. Instead, he squeezed the cloth and let the cool water trickle down to sooth the inflamed areas. Once he was clean, he sat shirtless on his bed and ate his lunch, staring out at a blue sky. It was a warm day, probably one of the last few before the weather turned cold. 

It would be a lovely day to sit in the graveyard. Steve looked over at his sketchbook on the bedside table. He swallowed his last bite and stared at his hands. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get them to stop shaking. He sighed and stood up, putting on his shirt. Maybe he should go up and try some painting.

Maybe later. Steve grabbed his jacket and locked his room, walking out of the castle and into the midday sun. He hadn’t been exploring nearly as much as he should have. He had a little bit of money that Thor must have left for him, in a little pouch stored in the drawer of his bedside table. It went in his pocket. Steve could imagine himself out for a stroll, on the search for a present for his ma and Bucky. There was more money in this little pouch than he had ever seen at once. Would Thor mind, if he got a little something for each of them? It seemed an appropriate way to remember them, without any of their possessions for him to keep.

Exploring was exciting, enough to ease some of his worry.  Asgard’s bustling streets were just as full of life as the last time he’d been here, only this time he could see it a little better, with his glasses and improved health. Steve walked straighter, alert and gathering as many details as he could. He could already see his next painting in his head.

One particular shop caught his eye. Steve wandered in, slipping under the awning and into the shade. The space was full of hanging clothes of a variety of patterns and colors, all beautifully woven. He spotted a big blue shirt his mother would have liked, simple and comfortable but a gorgeous pigment. It would have gone so nicely with her eyes... It wasn’t the right gift to buy. Steve walked out and kept looking.

It amazed him how many shops there were. There was a lot more variety than what had been traded for around his village. Nobody had ever made clothes this colorful, or any  jewelry . Back in his village, hardly anybody had money, trading for what they needed instead. His mother had grown herbs, trading them and her expertise in medicine for food. Bucky had offered his labor, usually repairing houses, and Steve had tried to help where he could. Usually, he’d just helped his mother tend her garden. Now, all he had to do was hand over some coins for whatever he wanted. 

What  _ did _ he want? Steve still didn’t know, couldn’t possibly pick faced with so many options. Something would jump out at him. He bought himself a sweet roll and kept walking as he ate, content to take his time while the days were still long. Today’s training had certainly worn him out, and he could already feel bruises forming, but it had also invigorated him. Thor had good friends.

Steve’s instinct was to look for something for Thor, too, but that would be foolish, given that this was Thor’s money to begin with. And what did you buy a king that he didn’t already have, or couldn’t get for himself?  _ What kind of gift do you get a king? _ Especially a gift that would express everything he wanted it to? He’d already thanked Thor for saving him, but he wanted to get him  _ something...  _ Maybe he could make him a painting instead. Steve flushed at the thought of Thor’s face when he’d looked at his painting. Yes, that would be a good present, something only he could give. Thor appreciated art. Steve would do that.

As he thought about what he could possibly paint, a display caught his eye. Steve wove his way through mingling people and approached the table covered in wooden carvings. Most of them were of animals, all small enough to sit in his palm, but crafted with such lifelike detail he couldn’t help but stare at every single one. 

He spotted Bucky first, a wolf poised proudly on a little carved rock, looking up to the sky with keen eyes and upright ears. The expression was just right, the character of the face resembling Bucky’s own. It was perfect.

“See  somethin ’ you like?” the shopkeeper walked over, his hands rough and worn from endless hours of carving, his eyes kind and crinkled with a smile.

Steve looked up and smiled back. “I’d like that one, please,” he pointed at the wolf. This was it. He was going to make his first indulgent purchase of his life today. 

“Of course,” the man picked up the little statue and turned to carefully wrap it in cloth. Steve stared at the table, searching for his mother. She had to be in here somewhere...

That was undeniably her, in a sleek house cat’s face. It was sitting, tail wrapped around its paws, calm but alert, intelligent eyes watching something ahead. Sarah Rogers had always been the stoic guardian, noble and dignified. Fiercely protective of her boys, yet kind. She had always been wise and observant, his best advisor and defender. She’d always known how to take care of him, even when he didn’t want it because he was sick of feeling sick. She had never pitied or underestimated him. He wished she’d been here to take care of him now, even though he’d been so adamant to get back on his feet as soon as possible. How could he not miss his mother’s touch? And Bucky’s?

_ Got people to look out for me, don’t you worry, _ he told the cat in his head, staring into its carved eyes. Were they worrying about him? Probably...  _ Sorry.  _ _ Gotta _ _ fight. You know I gotta. _

“Anything else?” the shopkeeper asked.

“And that one,” Steve pointed at the cat. “Please.”

That evening, he returned home with two little wooden statues. He unwrapped them and set them by his bed. He wanted them to see how happy he was, wherever they were. He wanted them to see that he was alright.

After dinner found him in front of a blank canvas, his brushes laid out and his paints mixed. He still had no idea what to paint for Thor, but the least he could do was start, practice. A couple hours later saw the canvas splashed with sky blues, green mountains receding into them. It wasn’t what he wanted, but it was something. It was progress. Painting really  _ was _ easier than drawing, at least where his hands were concerned, to get the shapes and edges right. It was relaxing, too, helping send some of his remaining anxiety somewhere.

There was still a bit left though, when he was all clean and crawling into his bed. Thor was still out there, still alone. He couldn’t let himself be too worried, because there was nothing he could do, but he couldn’t help it.  _ Come home safe,  _ he begged. He wondered if  Thor’s family was watching over the king.  _ Please. Keep an eye on him. Make sure he gets back.  _ The dead couldn’t help now, but the thought gave him some peace, enough that he could close his eyes and go to sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, as always for your feedback and comments! Your theories and the things you enjoy are always interesting to read, and I promise I have some good stuff planned!

He hoped Steve wouldn’t be too mad with him when he got back. The more he thought about it, the more reckless he realized this was. But it was too late to turn back, and he couldn’t deny that his heart was calling for him to do this.

In war, sacrifices always had to be made, and this was his. It was a small price to pay, really, the risk of his safety. Thor knew he wasn’t riding to his death. He just knew.

The night was warm enough. He pushed his horse as fast as it could handle, until the base came into view. The poor animal needed a rest. Thor slowed to a stop and dismounted, leading the horse to the river and letting it drink and rest. The sun was starting to rise.

He was close enough to run the last little distance to the base. Thor left his horse to rest and broke into a run, churning up the forest with long, angry strides. The enemy would never see him coming. By the time they realized what was happening, he would already be inside. 

Over the sound of his own thundering footsteps and heartbeat, Thor heard a whistle break the crisp morning air. He wasn’t alone in these woods, and he’d noticed too late. The arrow was already on its course, and it buried deep in his leg. The surprise was enough to topple him, and he went down, tumbling over himself in an eruption of dirt and forest debris thrown up by his momentum. It took a long time for him to stop rolling, but he kept moving, head spinning. He got up, tossing his hair out of his face and looking back as he scrambled to his feet. The arrow was deep in his thigh, the shaft splintered from his tumble. Pain hadn’t set in yet, and he didn’t let it. Thor grabbed the arrow and pulled it out, throwing it aside and launching straight back into a sprint.

They knew he was here, had anticipated his arrival. His stare darkened as he leapt over a fallen tree, weaving in case there were more archers still close enough to hit him. Another arrow screamed past his shoulder.

It was still too late to turn back. Thor burst from the bushes and turned his body, aiming his shoulder for the wooden door of the HYDRA establishment. It was only two levels above-ground, but it was vast. He thought of Steve as he smashed his whole weight and speed behind his attack, and the door split, torn right off the frame.

The hallways were eerily empty. Thor turned, running deeper into the place that had hurt Steve. It didn’t matter if the game had changed – was still going to destroy everything. One arrow wasn’t going to stop him, and neither would anything else these bastards had prepared for him. It wouldn’t be enough.

It wasn’t lost on him that they were probably waiting for him to run exactly where they wanted, but he didn’t care. He ran as fast as he could down the hallways, taking more than a few of the corners too quickly and smashing into them with his shoulders hard enough to crack rock and splinter wood. When he found a staircase leading to the lower floor, he jumped down them in two hops, shaking the dirt floor when he landed and springing forward into the dim room.

Not a room, but a long strip lined with cells. Thor was running so fast that he had to dig in his heels to stop before crashing into the back wall. Every single cell was empty, every dark corner. There wasn’t a single prisoner here. He broke the locks one by one and searched just to make sure, but there was nothing but a few drops of blood staining the dirt here and there, long-dried.

The prisoners had either been moved or killed. Thor leapt up the stairs and kept running, fighting back desperation. This was why he’d come, to free the prisoners, to protect as many people as he could from what HYDRA had done to Steve. He found another staircase up, kept pushing on. This floor was empty too. There was nothing here. Every single room was empty. He tore apart shelves and cabinets, knocked over furniture, but there wasn’t a single person hiding in any crevice or corner. 

There had to be  _ somebody _ here. Thor growled, frustrated and angry. “ _ Show yourselves! _ ” he roared, waiting for HYDRA to appear. He knew they were waiting, somewhere. “Come out and face me! Cowards!” They weren’t going to be goaded into attacking. They were waiting for him to come to them, to be in the position they wanted. But he didn’t care. He was going to yell at them anyway. He kept running, fingers bloody from tearing so many doors and locks apart. There were still more. He was back to the ground floor, exploring the remaining hallways. No door was left in-tact. He ripped every single one open, leaving splintered wood in his wake. And every single room was vacant.

He didn’t slow until the realization struck him where he was standing.

Many people had been hurt in this room, that much was clear by what it contained. There was a fireplace in the corner, the chimney built up through the ceiling, and the bed full of ash and coal and wood kindling. Beside it was a rack of pokers. Thor picked one off the stand and inspected the end. It looked like a stamp, the metal bend into a distinct shape. The others all had different shapes welded to the ends. Their width was strikingly familiar, and he knew what they were used for.

These were what had been used to draw the HYDRA insignia into Steve’s back and who-knew how many others, piece-by-piece, line-by-line. His fist tightened with rage around the poker in his hand, and he reached up to grip it with the other, bending the steal with his raw strength. He folded it in half and threw it aside, ripping the others out one-by-one and doing the same until he was through. He turned, panting, and stared at the destroyed pokers scattered around the room. There were two stakes driven into the ground, shackles attached to them. An animal growl bubbled in his throat and he stormed over, grabbing the first stake and pulling back as he kicked it, snapping the wood and throwing it aside with a clatter of chains. He broke the other the same, and stood heaving in the middle of the room.

It wouldn’t help anyone. It wouldn’t undo all the hurt that had already been dealt in this room, but it felt good to break something. This wouldn’t help Steve at all, but he felt as though he’d done it for his friend. He done it for himself, too, because he needed the reassurance that none of this equipment would be usable ever again.

But it wasn’t what he really wanted to tear to pieces; HYDRA was still lying in wait. Thor prowled for the doorway and stepped through, looking either way down the hallway. There was on last door at the end, the last left on its hinges. He stormed for it, kicking it in and marching through.

Sunlight greeted him. Where he stood was outside, the dirt pressed flat and surrounded by high wooden walls. There was a rack of weapons on one side, and a door across from him. It looked like an arena of some sorts, not huge, but large enough for a handful of people to train together. It didn’t look like it was for training though, at least not as he knew it.

What sounded like a door shutting came from behind, but that couldn’t be  right. Thor turned and reached for his sword, bending his knees. The doorframe had been covered with planks nailed together into a sturdy palette. Something heavy scraped along the floor behind it, what he could only assume was a barricade of some sort. It wouldn’t stop him. Thor growled and walked toward it, ready to push it aside. He turned and ducked sideways at the sound of whistling, and an arrow buried itself into the barricade inches from his neck.

“You came sooner than we expected,” the arched declared, dressed in armor and wearing the HYDRA motif. His companions were filing through the other door.

“But you did expect me,” Thor watched the archer slowly draw another arrow while the other soldier continued to file out and flank him, some holding bows themselves, but most drawing swords.

“Of course. Our informant was explicit about the fact that you’d be back,” the archer agreed. “ So we took appropriate measures.”

_ A trap.  _ He should have listened to his friends.  _ No. Doesn’t matter. I can still beat them. I’ve fought against harder odds and stronger enemies.  _ These humans would be nothing compared to the frost giants.

Like wasps to honey they swarmed him, and he happily met them.

He was far faster than any of them, ducking under arrows as he anticipated their trajectory and dodged or blocked swords. All at once was good, better than one-at-a-time. He could really go wild, could strike down more than one enemy at a time.

To their credit, it was the best HYDRA could have attempted. There was no other way they could have beaten him. Here, they had the space to encircle him and attack from all sides, able to move around each other in this more open space. But Thor had more room to move too, and he made use of that. He slashed out with the sword Tony had made, swinging it with all his strength. The engineer was right: it  _ could _ cut steel, and he had the strength to do that. The blade slashed through HYDRA armor, deep enough to leave men bleeding mortally from gushing wounds to the torso.

They smugness quickly turned to determination, because though he was holding his own and thinning their ranks, they were wearing at him. His gift wasn’t bottomless, and anger and adrenaline would only boost him so much.

It would be enough. Pain didn’t exist. Thor grabbed a swinging arm and threw the man into the blade of another coming in for a strike. He picked up another man and threw him into the path of an archer, blocking an arrow headed his way and crushing the shooter under the speed of the weight hurled at him. With his other hand he cut his sword into the nearest enemy.

A blade bit into his back, scraping along his hip under the edge of his leather armor. It cut in deep. He whirled and grabbed the wrist of his attacker, his shout just as loud as the crack of his boot breaking the man’s arm with a powerful kick. The sword fell, but Thor didn’t let go, kicking him again in the chest and crushing it. Suffocating, the man fell. More took his place.

How many more soldiers were there in this place?  _ Send them all.  _ There was no room to parry, so he grabbed the sword coming for his head by the blade and ripped it out of the hand that gripped it, cracking him in the head with the pommel and throwing the weapon like a javelin, spearing another lingering at the edge of the pack. The sharp edge had cut deeply into his hand, quickly slicking it with readily-flowing blood. It oozed through his fingers as he clenched them into a fist and punched a man so hard he broke his jaw.

He was beating them. There were more men on the ground than standing. HYDRA didn’t know a losing fight when they saw one. Thor rolled under a whizzing arrow fired from an archer wisely keeping his distance and circling the pack, waiting for an opening. The king grabbed an ankle and ripped it upward, standing and pulling hard enough to tear the hip joint out of place. The owner howled, and Thor twisted hard enough to break his leg, thrusting his sword through his armor. Thor stood up as fast as he could, freeing his sword and raising it to block the attacker coming from behind.

A soldier discarded his sword in favor of a knife, sliding under Thor’s sword arm while the king was striking at another enemy. The knife thrust up and under his armor, and into his back.  _ That, _ he felt. Pain was suddenly back in the equation. His arm snapped backward and his elbow cracked the soldier the soldier who had stabbed him in the face. There were only a few enemies left, now. They had made a grave mistake, thinking they could take him down, but he had to admit they’d tried. Not hard enough, he feared.  _ You can try and try as hard as you like, but it will never be enough. _

His friends were waiting for him. He was just three enemies away from being able to leave this place and ride home to them. They would be angry, he knew it. He hoped not too much. He hoped Steve could forgive him for disappearing like that. He really wanted to see Steve.  _ I will, soon.  _ His only regret was that he hadn’t managed to free any prisoners.

The last three men were fast to fall, but the final was hardly collapsed before someone else was entering the arena.

He was different. Panting, Thor turned, the tip of his sword resting in the dirt as he hunched over and braced his stomach with his arm. The man was clad in a long black coat, his skin almost sickly pale and his dark hair limp on his forehead. He regarded Thor with eyebrows slightly raised in amusement, like a hunter watching a caged animal for sport as it ripped apart its prey.

“To be honest I had underestimated you,” the man put a gloved hand into his pocket. “But it matters not. I never bet on them winning anyway. Sometimes legends are true, and it wasn’t worth the risk.” There was a big red tentacled skull stitched over his heart, menacing and evil.

“Run while you can,” Thor growled, settling himself back into a fighting stance with willpower alone. It would seem there was one last opponent left, and he didn’t look the least bit like a soldier. He looked too determined, too crazed. Perhaps he was the commander of these soldiers. Or, he had been.

“When I’m finished with you, I will walk calmly out of this place and on to victory,” the man explained, drawing a little pouch from his pocket and opening it. He took a pinch of powder from it and dusted it on the back of his hand. Thor launched forward, but the man was already inhaling what looked like dried and crushed plant mixture. By the time the gap between them was closed, the man’s pupils had narrowed. Thor slashed at him, and the man dropped the pouch, dodging faster than most humans could move.

Most humans apart from Thor. Apparently, whatever that powder was, it was giving this man the speed he needed to keep up with a weary Thor.

Not so weary that he was going to lose, though.

The man darted to Thor’s side, trying to make himself an opening while he drew a short knife out of his coat.  So this had been the plan, then: to tire him with sheer numbers, then strike him down when that failed. And whoever this man was, he was covering his bases by enhancing himself however he could. By the looks of his pallid complexion and grey-ringed eyes, this wasn’t the first time he’d used this concoction either.

No plant could give anyone the power that the gift could. Thor jumped, rolling in the air and over the knife stabbing for him. He spun at the hips and landed gracefully on his feet, despite the copious amounts of blood leaking out of him. He didn’t stumble, slicing with his sword. The man moved fast enough to change trajectory and dodge the blade, coming up closer and grabbing the bottom of Thor’s armor. He yanked the king close, jamming the knife forward. Thor bend sideways and caught the knife with his arm before it could pierce below his armor and gut him. His sword would only be a disadvantage at this close range against such a fast opponent, so he threw it aside. The man pulled his knife free and Thor whipped up both hands, punching him across the face and again in the gut. It wasn’t hard enough to break bones, but it was hard enough to hurt.

Pain didn’t even register in the man’s face as he straightened and changed his grip on the knife, working his jaw. Thor lightened his stance, not letting his wounds weight him down. He was ready when the man attacked, their wrists bouncing off each other as the man tried to stab him. A punch flew for his throat, and he knocked it aside with his forearm. The man tossed the blade to his other hand and slashed at Thor’s face, cutting a thin line up his cheek and across the bridge of his nose. 

Thor growled and threw himself forward, turning and hurling his shoulder blade into the man’s chest. The force knocked his enemy back. Thor whipped out and grabbed the man’s wrist, squeezing and twisting in an attempt to get him to release his weapon, but his hand was too bloody, and the man slipped free, tearing at the cuts in his palm and fingers. The enemy staggered back, glancing behind him. The pouch of powder was on the ground a few feet away. They made eye contact. The man took a pace backward, and Thor ran at him, vaulting over him. He turned in the air and landed to face his opponent, sliding a couple of inches and coming to a stop beside the pouch. He scooped it up, just as the blade flew into his bare shoulder.

Wounds like that wouldn’t be enough to take him down. Thor stood up and whipped his arm around, scattering most of the powder. The rest he dumped onto the ground and scuffed into the dirt with his boot. The man was upon him, punching with his gloved hand. The blow landed, and Thor staggered back. The man tackled him, reaching to reclaim his blade. Thor shoved him aside with his superior strength and pulled the knife free of his shoulder. He switched grips with a flick of his fingers and stabbed out. The man dodged, starting to slow as the powder wore off, but still fast enough. He wrestled for the knife and they grappled for a couple of tenuous seconds before Thor got a better grip with his bloody hand on the knife. The tip buried in the man’s thick coat, puncturing flesh.

The man grunted, but he was still enjoying the effects of his drug, was still fast enough to move back as Thor pulled the knife free. Thor started to scramble to his feet, but the blood loss was going to his head. The man kicked him in the throat, and suddenly he couldn’t breathe.

That didn’t stop the man from coming in to deal the final blow, but Thor wasn’t finished, wasn’t downed for good. Choking, he tightened his grip on the knife and lashed out. The man staggered back, losing the effects of his drug and backing into the shadows of Thor’s tunneling vision. Uneven footsteps receded, and Thor lay there, losing air.

\--

When he opened his eyes, he was still sprawled in the dirt. His mouth tasted of blood. Thor coughed and spat out a mouthful, gasping for breath. He pushed his arms under himself and dragged his torso off the ground. Everything hurt, and everything was quiet.

The sky was bright with evening colors. Good, he hadn’t lost much time. Thor coughed and cradled his throat, stumbling to his feet. He felt wet and sticky, his pants soaked in blood from the arrow wound in his thigh, the slash in his hip, and the stab up under his armor in his back. It was all over both hands, especially his cut one, dribbling down one arm from his shoulder, and the other from the puncture in his forearm. From the tackiness on his face, there was probably some dried there, too.

But he was alive, and he was alone. Thor looked around, limping for his sword and bending tentatively to pick it up. He sheathed it to his back and searched for any sign of the man who had attacked him, but there was none – the man had fled.

Confused and too tired to think straight, Thor limped for the door opposite the one he’d entered through, knowing he’d struggle to unblock it. He spotted the discarded pouch in the dirt, and some part of his brain still functioning managed to compel him to pick it up and tuck it into his belt. 

It was eerie walking through the empty corridors of the HYDRA base. He half-expected more soldiers or the mysterious man to pounce on him, but they didn’t. He trudged on, feeling every cut and bruise and his thundering heart rate. It wouldn’t kill him.  _ Better not.  _ He would be okay. He was still bleeding, but he’d be alright.

Maybe he’d whistled, but he couldn’t remember. His horse was trotting over to meet him though, and he patted its head as it greeted him with nuzzles. The beast held still so he could drag himself into the saddle, issuing a low groan of pain and fatigue. But he managed to mount, slumping in the saddle and turned his horse around. He gave its flank a squeeze, and it broke into a run, carrying him back into the forest. The archer must have come to back up his colleagues in the arena, because no more surprise arrows came whizzing toward him.

He was too tired to balance himself in the saddle, but his horse must have sensed him tipping and slowed its pace to a smoother canter. Thor wasn’t sure how long it took them to get back, and he didn’t even realize he’d blacked out until he opened his eyes and the castle was coming into view. The sky was a strange hazy blue, still dark enough to be night, but mere hours away from morning. He’d been riding all night.

People were running as his horse trotted across the stone and up to the steps of the castle. Someone took the reins, another reaching out to help as he practically fell out of the saddle.

Bruce pushed through the gathering soldiers and came to him, reaching for his arm. The doctor tucked himself under Thor’s much larger, much heavier body. People moved out of the way for them. “Come on,” Bruce was saying firmly. “One foot in front of the other.”

“ S’a trap,” Thor rasped, leaning heavily on the doctor. “Was a trap. They knew. The prisoners were gone.”

“It’s alright,” Bruce put a hand against his chest and pushed him upright. “It’s alright. You’re alright.”

Clint appeared at the top of the steps and ran down them two at a time, shoving himself under Thor’s other arm. Natasha was right behind him, her expression grim. She paused for a moment as she took him in, stoic expression flashing with bright rage and concern before she turned on her heel to lead the way into the castle.

It was getting increasingly harder to walk. “They’re all gone,” he murmured. He’d gone all that way only to accomplish half his task, and the less important half.

“Hey, eyes up front,” Clint tugged on him. “Keep moving.”

“You’re too big to carry,” Bruce urged. “We need you to keep walking, Thor.”

Right, he needed to get himself to bed. Only then could he sleep. Thor nodded once, steeling himself and moving forward. He was home, almost to his room. So close. “Steve...” he murmured.

“Steve’s fine,” Clint nodded. “He’s fine, Thor. We kept an eye on him. He didn’t leave our sight.”

Thor sighed with relief, even though he hadn’t been asking about that. “Where’s’he?”

“He’s probably in bed,” Bruce replied. “It’s very early in the morning.”

“Need to see him,” Thor swallowed.

“Okay,” Clint nodded. “We’ll get him in a minute.”

“I’ll get him for you,” Natasha glanced over her shoulder. “Soon as you’re resting, alright? Not far.”

All he had to do was make it to his bed, and then he could see Steve.  _ I’m so sorry, Steve. I tried to save them. I tried. But they were already gone, taken somewhere else. I tried so hard. _

Natasha got his door open with her spare key and led them inside. She shut the door behind them and rushed over to help support his weight. The very sight of his bed wiped the rest of his strength away. He was falling into all three of them. They would hold him up, it was alright. Everything would be alright.

He’d done it, just like he said he would. The base was destroyed and emptied.

He’d done it.

His friends got him into bed, Clint pulling off his boots and Natasha coming for his sword strap and belt. He clutched her wrist with his bloody hand, eyes urgently widening. “Wait,” he whispered, guiding her hand. “Here.”

“What is it?” she asked, reaching up to pry his hand away. “Hey, easy. You just have to rest, alright? We’ll take care of everything.”

He shook his head, letting go so he could fumble with his belt and pull out what he’d retrieved. He pushed the pouch at her clumsily, and she took it from him with a frown.

“What is it?” she pressed.

There was no way Thor could explain what had happened with the breath he had left. He was too tired, too sore, and too weak to reply more than shoving the pouch harder into her grip.

“Okay, later,” she agreed, pushing the pouch into her pocket and resting his hands to his sides. “You can tell me later. I’ll hang onto it for now, don’t you worry.”

Thor sighed again and shut his eyes. Natasha’s small hand stroked his forehead, strangely delicate. It was rare for her to show such outward affection and gentleness, but he appreciated it. It felt good. His friends would take care of him. They were already stripping him of his armor and other clothes, exposing his wounds and pushing on them. It didn’t even hurt. Just like everything, he would sleep this off. The gift would protect him, as it had many times before, just as had his friends many times more.

In their arms, he was safe.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for your ever-valuable feedback! I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter.   
> The burn will pay off eventually, I promise.

Someone was shaking him awake. Steve groaned and rolled over, rubbing his eyes. He was still sore and tired from yesterday’s training.

“Steve, wake up.” He opened his eyes to see Natasha there, hovering over him with worry in her eyes, about to shake him again. “He’s back,” she breathed.

Steve shot up and rolled out from under the covers, throwing on his shirt and lacing up his boots as fast as his trembling fingers could manage. “Where is he?” Steve staggered after her, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Natasha, where is he? Is he alright?”

“Come on,” she took his hand and led him out of the room. “He was asking for you.” There was some blood smeared on her fingers.

“Is he alright?” Steve demanded.

“He will be,” she glanced her shoulder. “I promise, Steve. He’ll be okay. He just needs some rest. He’s tough, you know that.”

Steve wished she would just tell him what happened, but he supposed he was about to find out for himself. Her warning only added to his anxiety, and he almost forgot them anyway when she opened the door for him and ushered him into Thor’s room.

Bruce and Clint were by the bed, the archer pulling up the blankets while the doctor packed up his supplies and walked over. “He’s come back from worse,” Bruce clasped Steve’s shoulder as he passed. “I know it looks bad, but in a couple of days he’ll have healed from the worst of it.”

Steve nodded mutely and carried on. Clint moved aside and brought a chair around for him to sit in, which he did. It didn’t matter how well he knew that Thor was stronger and would heal quickly; it still looked bad. It hurt him to look at Thor’s lax expression and pale skin. The king’s chest was rising and falling in slow, shallow swoops, but at least he was alive. Steve took the hand nearest to him, the one that wasn’t bandaged, and clasped it in his own. It was so much larger, the smooth skin swollen with bruising and split from punching. The pads of his fingers were worn raw, and there was a splinter in his palm. Steve pulled it out, cradling the hand in his smaller one and freeing the little sliver of wood with long fingers.

“He’ll probably sleep for a while,” Clint said at his side, looking down somberly as Natasha joined them.

Steve turned to look at them. “What happened?” he asked quietly, even though he could guess – Thor had gone to destroy the base, and he was back, so he must have succeeded.

“He didn’t say much,” Natasha shook her head. “Passed out almost right away. But he did give me this.” She dug something out of her pocket and held it up for him to see.

It was a pouch of some kind, dirty and dusty. Empty. He frowned at it. “I guess he didn’t tell you where he got it.”

She shook her head. “No. But he was desperate for me to hold on to it.”

They all stared down at Thor’s sleeping face. There was a cut there, a thin red line drawn across his cheek and nose. His throat was bruised, lips parted a little to allow more air into his lungs. He looked terrible, like a man who had defeated a small army. “We’ll have to wait, I guess,” he murmured more to himself.

“You’ll be alright here? With him?” Natasha put the pouch away. 

“I’ll stay,” Steve smiled up at them. They probably had things to do, like look after a kingdom while their king was down. Steve didn’t have anything to do. He’d be happy to stay.

“Holler if you need something,” Clint agreed. “We’ll make sure some food comes your way. We’ll come back to check in sometime later. Bruce too.”

Steve nodded gratefully and got comfortable, happy to sit here as long as was needed. The pair left them, Clint popping his head in a moment later to delivery his sketch book and a couple of novels, ducking right out again.

Thor was back, injured but safe. Steve let the anxiety melt away, even though he was still worried. Thor’s gift would heal him – Thor himself had explained it, and his friends had vouched for his guaranteed recovery. It was still difficult to look at his friend’s pale skin and bandaged body, though. _Why did you do that? Why would you risk your life like_ _that?_ Rhetorical questions, he knew. He knew why Thor had done what he’d done. “You’re somethin’ else,” Steve sighed, rubbing his thumb around Thor’s knuckles and carefully avoiding the split skin. He could imagine those hands ripping apart wood and steel like they were paper. “Bravest, stupidest person in the whole damn world.”

Those hands had reached out to touch him so many times, had cradled him gently, had wrapped him in warm blankets and comforted him. Steve rubbed the fingers with his own. They were a bit shorter than his, but stronger and thicker. Despite how smooth they were, how limp and cold, there was strength in them. Steve could feel it. In a burst of curiosity, he brought the hand to his face. It cupped his cheek so completely, the skin soft against his. This was nice.

_ What am I doing?  _ Steve rested Thor’s hand back over his belly, careful not to disturb his bandages. He sat back and folded his arms around his chest, watching a crease in the blanket smooth and deepen as Thor breathed under it. 

If he was going to keep watch, he might as well keep himself occupied. Steve picked up his sketchbook and opened it to one of the last empty pages, holding his pencil in a shaking hand. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get his mind to conjure up any image other than Thor. It was too perfect, Thor’s face so completely relaxed and just waiting to be drawn properly. Steve took off his glasses and neatly folded them on the table by his books. He adjusted his position, pulling up his knees so he could rest his book against them and setting his feet on the edge of the bed by Thor’s waist.

This was by no means the first time he’d sat down to sketch the king. Thor’s face was so full of nuance, capable of so many emotions that it had captured his imagination immediately. There was so much character in every feature, in the shape of his lips, the arch of his nose, the swell of his cheekbones, and the curve of his eyebrows. If those eyes were open, they would narrate whole novels of their own, framed in dark eyelashes. And the rest of his body, well... Thor’s chest absolutely had to be that huge to contain that huge heart inside of it. The rest of him of course had to follow to match the proportions.

Even unconscious, Thor  _ looked _ powerful, filling a significant amount of his huge bed. But he didn’t look like a king – he looked too young.

He looked like he was hurting, even dead to the world and relaxed as he was. He looked burdened, like he was trying to shoulder the world.  _ I’ll take care of you.  _ Steve resolved with a firm jaw and set his pencil to paper.  _ You took care of me. You still take care of me.  _ He couldn’t stop Thor from fulfilling his duty, just like Thor couldn’t stop him from fighting in this war, but he could keep vigil.

Steve drew. It still wasn’t as detailed as he’d like, nor as well-executed, but he couldn’t turn down the chance to draw a perfectly still subject. There was still character in Thor’s relaxed expression. His kindness shone through in his lips and the creases around his smile-worn eyes.

Bruce stopped by a couple hours later to check up on things. He took a pulse and checked for fever, all while Steve watched discretely over his knees as he continued to sketch. The doctor lifted the blankets to make sure none of the bandages had bled through, then took his leave, satisfied. Steve set down his sketch book as soon as they were alone again, and the improvement took him by surprise when he really looked. There was some healthy color in Thor’s cheeks already, and the cut in his face was a bit less red, and not as long. It had visibly faded in just a few hours. Steve couldn’t help himself; he just had to reach out and take Thor’s hand again, abandoning his drawings in favor of touch. Thor’s hand didn’t feel quite as cold. Steve’s thin fingers fit so well between the larger ones. He laced their fingers and wrapped his other hand over top, holding Thor’s tightly, protectively.  _ Get the rest you need, and wake up. Wake up soon. _

Clint’s arrival took him by surprise, and he jumped out of his daydream, his grip still tangled around Thor’s hand. He let go as quickly as he could without dropping the hand, laying it down carefully. A bit flushed, he nodded his thanks for the lunch the archer offered him.

“He looks a bit better,” Clint noted quietly, glancing out the window at the midday sun with a troubled expression. “He  wake up at all?”

Steve shook his head, picking over his food. “Hasn’t even stirred,” he relayed. He inspected the archer more closely. “Everything okay?”  _ His friend’s hurt.  _ _ Of course _ _ it isn’t. _

Clint sighed and shook his head, leaning against the bedpost on the opposite side. “ Nothin ’ for you to be worried about,” he explained. “Politics, the usual.”

_ The advisors.  _ He remembered Bruce’s words, about how Thor had been manipulated to go on this quest. And look where it had gotten him. Steve frowned, his gaze darkening at the implications of that. Somehow, he had a feeling things could have turned out a lot worse, had maybe been intended to.

“We’ll take care of it,” Clint waved his hand, straightening and giving a smile that was supposed to be reassuring, but was tainted with the worn anxiety buried beneath. “Don’t worry yourself. Just... keep an eye on him, alright? Don’t leave him.”

“Didn’t plan on it,” Steve agreed.

“Good.” The archer deflated a little, and Steve was touched that Thor’s closest friends were so adamant that he stay, perhaps even relieved that he was going to be here.

Clint left, his stride hurried and troubled. Steve ate his lunch in silence, watching Thor breathe until he was finished. He couldn’t pick up his sketchbook again. His hand was sore from clenching so hard in an attempt to combat his tremor. He rubbed his wrist and leaned forward, perfectly happy just to sit and stare at his subject in the flesh.

Even with his superior healing speed, Thor was too hurt to spring back. The rest he was getting, he needed. That much was clear. “Still be great if you woke up, though,” Steve murmured. “Though maybe it’s so I can tell you that you’re stupid to your face. Maybe. You’d better not pull a stunt like that again.”

At least like this, he could say whatever he wanted, and Thor wasn’t awake to argue or take offense. Steve sighed and reached out for the hand again, finding comfort in it.

“Lost too much already,” he admitted. “I don’t  wanna lose you, too.  So you’re not  gonna do something like this ever again, you hear? I don’t care how strong you are. I can’t lose you.”

Thor had become very dear to him, dearer than he’d realized.

\--

The others came by whenever they could. They brought food and drink, some for Steve, and some for Thor when he decided he was ready to wake up and be part of the world again. Natasha and Clint were quite busy, understandably, and Bruce was analyzing the pouch Thor had brought back, so most of the day it was just Steve alone. That was fine. He  sort of preferred it, in a selfish way, having Thor all to himself. It didn’t matter that his friend was out cold.

Tony stopped by too, covered in soot as usual, but concerned. He asked questions Steve couldn’t answer, offered his best wishes, and went back to his work.

Steve hardly moved from his chair, but that was fine. He wasn’t bored. In fact, he hardly touched his books, preferring just to sit in silence or talk to himself and touch Thor instead. Finally, he decided he didn’t need to hold Thor’s hand with both of his and let go with one, reaching out instead to stroke the hair off his friend’s forehead. It was a bit tangled. He let go of the hand altogether and stood up, running his fingers through the golden locks to smooth them out. He lifted Thor’s head off the pillows a little so he could fix the hair round the back. It was a small, inconsequential thing, but it made him feel better.

When he pressed his hand against Thor’s cheek, it was glowing with healthy warmth. Not quite Thor’s usual burning heat, but something. 

It was getting dark out. Steve yawned, realizing how tired and sore he was. He bent over to take off his boots.

There weren’t any extra blankets lying around. Steve looked. Instead, he spotted Thor’s cape draped over a chair by the table and walked over to it, bundling the fabric into his arms. He took off his boots and robbed a couple of throw pillows from the empty side of the bed. He turned the chair sideways so he could lean against the back and still face Thor, arranging the pillows on it. Without a second’s thought he took one of Thor’s shirts out of the dresser and traded it for his. As usual, it was much too big. That was alright. He didn’t mind swimming in the fabric. The smell was so familiar. Steve folded his shirt and left it on the table, walking back to the bed. He lit the candle on the bedside table before it got too dark to see and made sure his books were safely pushed away from the flame.

Amber firelight gently glowed on Thor’s face. Steve couldn’t help himself, clasping that face he’d grown so fond of and leaning over, compelled to kiss Thor’s forehead. He wasn’t sure why he stopped himself. “I’ll be here,” he murmured. “See you in the morning.”

He wrapped himself in the cloak and got comfortable in his chair, curling on his side and letting his eyes fall shut.

\--

Something was wrong. Steve opened his eyes. The room was still dark. He flicked his eyes down to the bed – Thor was still there, asleep, the candle still flickering. He was breathing deeper, a slight frown carved into his features.

Everything was far too quiet. Steve turned his head to face his good ear toward the door, but there was still nothing. There was someone nearby, he could feel it. Steve looked around the room, but it was empty. Anxiety gnawed on him so forcefully it hurt. Something was  _ really _ wrong. Without thinking, Steve shed the cloak and slid off the chair as quietly as he could. He rolled under the bed and lay on his back, hidden in the shadows. Maybe he was being silly. Maybe he was just worried and imagining things. Thor was going to be fine.

Steve lay there in silence, breathing as quietly as he could. At least any sounds he couldn’t quite conceal were covered by Thor’s raspier breathing. He was breathing from between his nose and mouth, a faint snore rattling through his sinuses.

He almost didn’t hear it, but the door was creaking open. Steve held his breath and turned his head, watching a pair of boots walk quietly across the floor toward the bed, then round to the other side. The chair was lifted aside, and the boots stopped right by his shoulder. That wasn’t Natasha, for certain. Those boots didn’t look like Tony’s either, and he was quite sure that wasn’t how Clint carried himself. The archer was much lighter on his feet, and a bit smaller than whoever was standing there.

At the sound of steel sliding against steel, Steve moved, alarm shooting through him.  _ No! _ He flashed out his arm and grabbed an ankle, yanking it back. The owner yelped and a knife and sheathe dropped to the floor with a clatter. Steve rolled out, kicking the legs with his boot as hard as he could. The man fell, and Steve kicked the knife. It spun under the bed and out onto the other side, well out of reach.

Steve straightened, but a hand grabbed his ankle and pulled. Steve cried out as he started to fall, possessive hands clawing at his shirt to drag him into a tight embrace. The man rose and grabbed him from behind, one arm pinning his arm against his stomach, the other clamping over his mouth hard enough to hurt. They wrestled, but the contest of strength had a clear winner. Steve clawed at the hands holding him with his free arm, kicking his legs and straining his whole body, but he couldn’t get free.

“I had a feeling you’d be here somewhere,” a rough beard rubbed into his ear, hot air rushing down his neck. He shivered. “You know, if the plan didn’t work, we’d have used you against him next. You’d have made excellent bait.” He squeezed tighter, pinching Steve’s nose to cut off the air. “Hail Hydra,” he whispered, in a voice he knew he’d heard before. Steve’s back ached in response to fear and memory.

He had to get free, or this man was going to kill him.

He had to get free, at least free his mouth so he could shout for help. Steve kept wrestling, his eyes landing on the candle. It was just within reach. He flung his body forward and stretched for it, grabbing it and whipping it back. The flame blew out, but the wick was still hot when it pushing into the face of his captor. The man immediately let go, howling with pain and surprise.

Steve turned the candle in his hand and swung it around as he spun, clocking the man in the temple with the metal base. Then he staggered back and fumbled for a book off the table, panting for breath. 

Stane was clutching his burned and bleeding temple, the skin scorched from the wick and split from the second blow. “You’ll pay for that,” he growled, balling his fists and prowling forward. “I’ll kill you, then him. You’re small, and weak. It won’t take much to wring that little neck.”

It really wouldn’t, but that was only if he could get his hands on it. Steve placed himself firmly in front of Thor and brandished the hard-cover book, trying to remember what Natasha had taught him.  Stane was more than happy to attack first, swinging in a wild rage at Steve’s head. Steve raised the book to protect himself, but the blow still knocked him back against the bed. He righted himself as fast as he could and yelled loudly, swinging the book at Stane’s head. The spine made contact, cracking the bigger man in the ear and stumbling him sideways.

Steve stormed forward, throwing the book into  Stane’s chest. It spun and hit with a thud, while Steve yanked the cloak of the chair and threw it over the advisor’s head. He grabbed another book and hit  Stane in the head, then kicked him in the chest. His attacker stumbled back a pace, tangled in cape and at least a little dazed.

“You won’t touch him,” Steve growled, swinging the book again and striking with a grunt.

Stane wrestled off the cape and threw it down, boiling with rage. He stormed forward, smacking the book out of Steve’s hand and swinging a punch he couldn’t dodge. It caught him in the jaw, whipping his head to the side. But it wasn’t enough to down him; Steve had been punched too many times to count, and though the hit was  dizzing , it didn’t hurt that much. Not right now at least, while he was fueled with adrenaline and a desperation to protect.  _ Keep Thor safe. Don’t let him get hurt. _ Someone would have heard his shouts by now. Someone would be here soon, and there was no way Stane could hold his own against Natasha, or Clint, or probably any other soldier. Not unarmed as he was.

_ Come on, I can do this. It’s just one guy.  _ Steve took a step back and grabbed the chair, swinging it around between them.  Stane laughed like a maniac and kicked it into his stomach, grabbing it and throwing it out of the way. He stormed forward as Steve reached forward, grabbing him by the front of his too-big shirt and throwing him aside too. 

“Is that one of his?”  Stane hissed, crouching over him and grabbing a handful of fabric, lifting Steve’s shoulders off the floor and driving down a hard punch that caught him in the cheek. “Very sweet. So small and useless. You think you can protect anyone? You think anyone could ever love you?”

He’d never cared what people like this said about him. Steve grit his teeth and balled his fist. “Tell that to the people that do.” He swung a punch of his own, and it collided with  Stane’s eye. But the advisor didn’t let go. He just pulled back for another punch, and Steve couldn’t struggle away.

Over  Stane’s head appeared a shadow, huge and heaving.  Stane was suddenly ripped away, thrown aside like he was nothing. Steve pushed himself up and wiped his nose on his hand, watching with wide eyes as Thor stalked across the room, grabbing  Stane by his shirt and thrusting him against the wall, limping and lopsided, but so full of rage that he didn’t seem to notice his wounds. He was dressed in only his pants, bandages wrapped around his arms and his hand and his waist, more hidden on his leg, but he was no less imposing. No less the image of power.

“I trusted you,” he growled, pushing  Stane against the wall. His muscles pulsed in the dim moonlight filtering through the window, his eyes glowing brightly. “Perhaps I would have spared you, on another day. But I no longer have patience for you.”

“Your kingdom will fall,”  Stane choked, his toes straining to touch the floor.

“Not today,” Thor’s voice was unwavering, and he drew back his fist.

“Hail Hydra,”  Stane spat out, but it was cut off by the fist he took in his temple. The blow was hard enough to kill him, and his body crumpled to the floor as Thor dropped him.

The king stood there panting, and Steve scrambled to his feet, head spinning. “Thor,” he breathed. “Thor!” He was fast enough to get there before his friend’s body started to go down. “Hey, hey come on. Back to bed.” He refused to look at the body, focusing all his attention on Thor. The king leaned on him, out of breath and curled in on himself. Steve searched for blood, but he could hardly see anything in this light, and Thor had his arm wrapped tightly around his ribs.

Steve drew and arm across his shoulders, his heart pounding as he turned Thor toward the bed and led him slowly back to it. Natasha burst through the door, Clint and a handful of soldiers on her heel. She immediately spotted  Stane on the floor, and her expression flashed with icy fear as she hurried over to help support Thor’s huge body. Steve’s heart clenched protectively, but he was grateful for the help, and so was Thor, who dropped more of his weight into it with a breathless moan.

“Get him out of here,” Natasha gestured the body with her head, and the soldiers rushed forward to obey. 

Clint picked the candle off the floor and lit it. “I’ll get Bruce,” he breathed, turning on his heel and rushing out, but not before giving Thor a quick glance. Steve got one too, and the archer gave him a nod of approval.

“So much for keeping you in bed,” Natasha was murmuring softly to Thor as they helped him lie back down. Steve folded back the blankets, scanning for blood by the candle light but seeing none. He heaved a sigh of relief.  Stane hadn’t stabbed or cut him.

Thor was closing his eyes already, shivering and wincing deeply. Steve fussed with the pillows, propping them back under Thor’s injured leg. He pulled the blankets over him and took his hand, squeezing it to encourage his friend could do the same. “Hey, Thor, look at me,” he coaxed. Thor cracked his eyes open, and Natasha squeezed a safe spot on his arm.

“Steve,” he sounded hoarse and breathless, but there was a faint smile on his lips. “Tasha.” He squeezed Steve’s hand a little.

“You alright? You need some water or something?” Steve asked.

Thor shook his head and shut his eyes again. He was asleep in seconds.

Natasha turned to face him. “You saved him,” she breathed. “You saved his life.”

“I-” he didn’t get the rest out, because she was drawing him into a tight, relieved hug.

“Did he hurt you?” she asked, drawing away and inspecting his face with worried eyes.

“I’m alright,” Steve heaved. “Just a bit bruised, that’s all.”

Natasha sighed with relief and drew him back into her arms. She hugged him tightly, betraying how stressed she was. That had been much too close for comfort, between Thor running straight into the trap, then almost being finished off in his sleep. But Thor was fine. Or, he would be.

“I’ll be right outside,” Natasha promised, pulling out of the hug and squeezing his shoulders. “We can deal with all this in the morning. Go back to sleep, Steve. Nothing else will disturb you tonight.”

He nodded mutely. She gathered  Stane’s fallen knife off the floor and walked out, slipping out the door as Bruce came in. The doctor strode over and put down his supplies, still rubbing sleep from his eyes but  alert and awake.

“I heard what happened,” he whispered, scanning Thor’s body. “Doesn’t look like he ripped anything open.” The bandages were clean.

Steve sighed and watched Bruce take a pulse and press his hand against his friend’s forehead. He just wanted it to be the two of them again, but he was glad the doctor was here. Bruce smoothed out the blankets and turned to inspect him. “I’m alright,” Steve assured again.

“Are you sure?”

“I just need to go back to bed,” Steve agreed. His head hurt, spinning from punches, and from the near-miss. His nose had only bled a little.

Bruce nodded understandingly. “Of course,” he gathered his supplies and walked for the door. “I’ll be back in the morning to check in, alright? Get some rest.” Steve nodded obediently and watched the doctor leave. The door shut with a soft thud.

Panting a  little, Steve glanced to the chair lying on its side a few feet away, and the cape in a heap nearby. He walked over and righted the chair, folding the cape onto it and picking up the scattered throw pillows. He gathered the books off the floor and stacked them neatly back where they’d been. Then he stared at the bed, and Thor asleep in it like he’d never gotten up to begin with.

There was no way he was going back in the chair. Steve glanced at the door – it was closed, so he walked round to the other side of the bed and folded back the covers. This would be alright. He needed to be close. Steve shifted closer, mindful not to disturb his friend’s wounded body, and leaned over him. This time, there was no hesitation. With careful hands, he cradled Thor’s face and kissed his forehead, lingering his lips there for far longer than he’d meant to. There was no-one to see his flushed cheeks, or the smile on his lips. It felt just right.  _ I’ll keep you safe.  _ Steve wrapped his hand around Thor’s and went back to sleep.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a couple of idiots cuddling, you know, as you do when you're friends.

Something warm and heavy was pushing him into the bed when he awoke. Thor cracked open his eyes and squinted in the sunlight. It had to be quite late in the morning at this stage. He was too sore to move much, but he felt so much better than when he’d staggered to his bed. Had that been yesterday? The day before? He felt horrible and stiff enough to believe that he’d been asleep for a couple of days, especially since he wasn’t really sure how badly he’d been injured.

Thor looked down to see Steve there, head pillowed on his shoulder, upper body draped protectively over him. One slender arm was wrapped around Thor’s ribs, and his cheek was pressed into his pec. Steve’s lips were parted, and he was breathing deeply and evenly, well and truly passed out. There was a dark bruise around his cheekbone, another on his jaw. Thor frowned and reached up to rub away a smear of dried blood from Steve’s upper lip.

He had the distinct memory of Steve shouting in the darkness – last night, then – of a fight moving around him. He remembered  Stane pinning Steve to the floor, about to beat his face in. And Thor had killed him.  _ It was a trap, all of it.  _ And if it weren’t for Steve, he’d have been stabbed to death in his sleep. The gift couldn’t save him from everything.

Steve had fought off  Stane by himself. No wonder he was so worn out. Thor smiled and pulled the blankets around both of them a bit higher. His arms were sore, but that was alright. He would live. He reached up and ruffled Steve’s hair slowly, dragging his hand up and pushing his bangs from his forehead. He couldn’t help notice that Steve was in one of his shirts, the fabric loose enough to fall off one shoulder. It was a wide-collared shirt, one of Thor’s favorites for the texture of the fabric. Even though it was huge on him, Steve looked good in it. He was hardly visible clung to Thor’s chest and covered in blankets, but Thor could just tell.

Steve stirred only a few seconds later, and Thor watched his friend shift with a quiet groan. A pair of big blue eyes were very close to his, their noses almost touching for a moment or two. Steve sat up and got his bearings, one hand planted firmly on Thor’s solid pec.

“Hey, you’re awake,” Steve stared, suddenly alert. He looked down at his hand and quickly pulled back, the blankets falling off his shoulders as he rolled off and sat beside Thor. “Sorry,” he stammered, quickly flushing a deep scarlet color that traveled all the way down his neck and under the collar of his borrowed shirt. “Didn’t mean to grab you, I’m sorry-”

“It’s alright,” Thor reassured with soft, heavy chuckle. He hadn’t really minded. Not at all, actually. And he certainly hadn’t minded Steve sleeping right on him. That had been nice. But Steve was flustered, fixing the blankets with anxious hands, so Thor moved on to another subject. “How long was I asleep?”

“A day, plus last night,” Steve replied, sliding off the bed and coming to the other side. By the time he’d walked all the way around, he’d gotten himself mostly under control, smoothing out his shirt and sitting in the chair. “How do you feel?” There was worry he was trying to hide in a bright stare searching for any indication of discomfort. 

“Thirsty,” Thor licked dry lips and shifted his body experimentally with a discomforted frown. He felt weak and weighted to the bed under these blankets, but Steve must have noticed because the other man was reaching out to help him sit a bit.

“Here,” Steve propped the pillows, sliding an arm behind Thor’s shoulders to help him sit. Thor wedged his arm under himself and pushed, but he needed the help – the wound in his back was too fresh and sore, and his arms were struggling to support him, especially his stabbed shoulder. Steve was gentle with him, carefully laying him back and taking the weight. He handed over the cup and didn’t let go until he was certain Thor had a grip on it.

“Thank you,” Thor took a few sips, relieved by the cool water that wet his mouth and washed away the taste of blood.

“You scared the hell out of me,” Steve said in a low voice, dragging the chair a bit closer and leaning forward. There was pain in his eyes. It was coming, what he’d dreaded. Steve had every right to be angry. Surprisingly, he sounded more frightened than anything. “Your friends said you were manipulated into going...”

Thor couldn’t defend himself. He sipped his water remorsefully, throbbing in submissive silence but that was fine. None of his wounds would scar. He could handle pain. “They did,” he agreed quietly. “And I saw it coming.”

“Why?” Steve demanded, clutching his other arm like he might run off and do it again, touching on frantic but still careful of his sliced hand and the gouge farther up his forearm. “Why, Thor?” It seemed like he already knew the answer.

“I had to,” Thor shook his head. “I had to go, Steve. And I had to do it alone.”

“You didn’t,” Steve begged. “You could have brought help. I know... I know you don’t want to see other people get hurt, but what about us?”

“I’ll heal,” Thor tried, unable to avert his eyes from Steve captivating stare. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at him quite like this, with that same level of anguish that came from imagining what might have come about if things had gone wrong, and the knowledge that situations like this might arise again. It was a little jarring, but touching all the same. As much as he hated to worry anyone, especially to this degree, perhaps he hadn’t really expected that level of worry to come from Steve. It touched his heart and warmed it, but did nothing for his feeling of guilt.

“I don’t care. You don’t have to suffer like that.”

“This is my burden,” Thor begged. “Please, Steve. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to worry you, but I couldn’t risk losing anyone for this.”  _ Please, you must understand. _

It seemed like Steve _ did _ , because he still looked fearful. He sighed and took back the empty cup, wrapping his hands around Thor’s and holding it tightly. “I was really worried,” he admitted in a whisper. “Can’t help it. I can’t lose anyone else.”

“You won’t,” Thor promised with an encouraging smile. “You won’t lose me, Steve. I can’t lose anyone else either. That’s why I had to go alone.”

“I know,” Steve shook his head, wrestling with the truth of it and his own sympathy for Thor’s wounded heart. “I know. But don’t you  _ ever _ do that again, got it?” His eyes locked Thor’s firmly, and all Thor could do was  nod obediently: never. Steve sighed and squeezed his hand, his shoulders heavy and his expression weary. 

Thor frowned. “Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

Steve waved his hand and gave a tired smile. “Just worried about you, mostly,” he replied, his eyebrow quirking like it did when he was about to say something cheeky. “You look really, really terrible.”

“I’ve been better,” Thor agreed, much enjoying that sly glimmer in Steve’s eyes. He wanted more. “Someday you will learn how to address a king.”

“You’re the first king I’ve ever met. Might take some learnin’,” Steve already looked brighter, his normal self again just like that, if not still a bit troubled. Well, that was fair, for what Thor had put him through. Steve hadn’t let go of that hand. That was fine. Thor didn’t mind having something to hold onto. Steve was rubbing his bruised knuckles with careful fingers, seemingly without even noticing he was doing it. It felt good, so he didn’t say a thing. This felt safe.

Clint appeared in the doorway, bringing breakfast. He quickened his pace the second he noticed Thor was awake. Steve started to pull back his hands, but Thor held on, and didn’t let go, smiling at the archer. Clint smiled back, troubled by something Thor hadn’t been privy to. Maybe just the overall stress of what he had done to his friends. “Lookin’ sharp Your Highness. Business is all taken care of, don’t you worry. Me an’ Nat have it under control till you’re back on your feet. Good to see you awake, anyway.”

Thor smiled. “Thank you, my friend.”

“Don’t mention it,” Clint waved a hand. “You just stay in bed and get lots of rest, got it? Doc’s orders. He said he doesn’t want you walkin’ around for at least another day. You’re pretty beat up.”

Steve’s hands clenched around his, and Thor nodded. He owed that to his friends, at least, to get plenty of rest and let himself heal.

Clint pulled up another couple of chairs on the other side of the bed, and Natasha was soon to join, giving him a relieved smile and a squeezing his uninjured shoulder before sitting down at his side. 

Bruce was the last to arrive, the pouch in his hand. He sat down beside Steve. “Welcome back,” he smiled. 

They were all here now. While Bruce held up the pouch and to explain what he’d found, Steve leaned forward to feed him. With his cut hand and sore arms, not to mention Steve’s unwavering proximity, Thor didn’t mind at all. He listened while he ate, grateful to still be involved despite his confinement to bed.

“It’s a doping mixture,” the doctor explained. “There’s not enough sample on the cloth to determine exactly what it’s made of, but it’s powerful. I accidentally inhaled a little, and it slowed everything down for a good ten minutes. I felt sick for at least an hour after, though. Where did you find this?”

Thor let himself drift back to the HYDRA encampment, remembering his fight. It felt like an age ago. He frowned. “There was a man...” he scrambled for a better description, but there was nothing else worth noting. “He said someone had informed him of my arrival. The prisoners had been moved somewhere else long before I got there, and the soldiers were waiting for me. I fought them off, but this man, he... He was waiting, and he inhaled the powder. It made him much faster, and he wasn’t feeling the blows I landed.”

“He waited till you were worn out and injured, and tried to strike the finishing blow,” Clint nodded, expression dark. “Good strategy.”

Thor nodded and rubbed his bruised throat with his bandaged hand. “The powder was wearing off, and he could no longer keep up with me, but I had already knocked the pouch from his hand and tipped the powder out. He did what he could to strike me down while its effects were still useful, but it wasn’t enough. He was slowing and unbalanced, but he struck enough of a blow to stop me from following him, and escaped. He was gone when I woke up.”

Bruce frowned. “Withdrawal,” he explained with a small shiver. “And pretty severe, by the sounds of it.”

“He looked unwell,” Thor nodded. “Even before taking the powder.”

“He must have been using it pretty regularly, then,” Bruce agreed.

“Can I see it?” Steve piped up, putting down the plate of food and holding out his hand, a strange look of familiarity in his eyes, like he had an idea.

“Sure,” Bruce handed it over, and Steve brought it closer.

“Careful,” Thor murmured, unable to help himself, but Steve just wafted the air toward his nose instead of taking a direct whiff.

The blonde’s body tensed, and handed back the pouch, expression grim. “Back when me an’ Buck were there, they were testing what we thought were poisons on him. But... maybe they were trying to make that stuff.” He nodded at the pouch. “Some kind of enhancement drug.”

“Something to fight you,” Bruce looked at Thor.

“This whole thing was supposed to get rid of you,” Natasha agreed. “The other advisors were waiting for  Stane to come back last night. When he never did, they fled. But we caught one.” Her expression darkened. “He told us they’d sent a messenger out the second your scouts came back, Thor. They killed the scouts, told you what they knew you needed to hear, and manipulated you into attacking by yourself. Meanwhile, the messenger had already alerted the base you were coming, so all the prisoners were taken somewhere else, and the soldiers waited to ambush you. And in the end, if that wasn’t enough, they’d kill you when you got back, while you were weak and vulnerable.”

But all those contingencies had failed. Steve squeezed his hand again.

Well, not everything had failed... HYDRA had still kept all their prisoners. Thor swallowed his guilt, even though he knew it wasn’t his fault. Those prisoners would have bene moved had he gone or not. In the end, he’d still killed every remaining HYDRA soldier in that base, had cleared it out completely, and suffered no losses on his own side for that.  _ Apart from the scouts...  _ After everything, he still hadn’t been able to protect everyone.

“All the advisors are gone,” Clint spoke up. “All of them. It’s just us. What do you want us to do?”

He was their leader. They were all waiting for him to guide them, maybe even reassure them. Thor looked between them all, finally settling on Steve. Steve wasn’t waiting for anything, just staring at him with calm, steady kindness.

Everything was going to be okay. Thor sighed. “We’ll continue with the celebration,” he declared, summoning his strength to sit a bit higher, staring with confidence at his friends. “Double the guards posted, and be watchful. We can form a new battle strategy in the next few days.” Without any knowledge of where the defected court members had gone, what they knew, and to whom they’d told it, they would need some time to consider their options.

His answer satisfied his friends, who nodded, grateful. Thor hadn’t given them much, but it was enough.

“Get some rest,” Clint stood up and put his chair back at the table. “We’ll be round to see you. Don’t worry too much, alright? Like I said, we got it.”

Natasha nodded in confirmation. “Everything is under control.”

His only remaining advisors left. Bruce stayed, and so did Steve, who was still clinging to his hand. The doctor rose, picking a bag off the floor and setting it on his chair. “I’ll check your wounds, and leave you be,” he explained. “Here, Steve, mind giving me a hand?”

“Course,” Steve was right on his feet, offering his aid.

Everything still hurt, but a day’s rest had sealed all his wounds shut. He couldn’t get sick, but Bruce still applied medicine. The gift could fight  off infection and illness, but the doctor reasoned that if it had one fewer thing to fight, he would heal faster. Thor couldn’t argue with that, even if it stung. He’d bled so badly and his body hurt so much all over that he could hardly move, but Steve helped him, taking his weight and doing the hard work.

In no time at all, his two friends had him bandaged back up and resting comfortably on his pillows. Bruce put his stuff away and Steve propped up his leg, drawing the blankets across him and tucking them in place. He smoothed them out with mindful hands while the doctor walked away, reiterating his orders to rest. Steve was staying though, so Thor hardly thought those orders were necessary. Steve didn’t look like he’d let him up anyway, and Thor was happy to stay here if this was the company he was getting.

“Are you alright?” Steve asked, drawing up his chair again and sitting in it, frowning with concern.

He was in a lot of pain, but it wouldn’t last long, and it wasn’t more than he could handle. Once his wounds settled from being disturbed and examined, he would feel a bit better. He gave a weak smile of gratitude. He couldn’t lie to that face. “Hurting, but I’ll be better soon,” he promised. “I’m alright.”

“Sure I can’t get you anything?” Steve insisted.

Even if there was something he wanted, Thor wasn’t sure he’d rather have it if Steve had to leave for any amount of time to fetch  it. “I’m sure,” he agreed, prepared to be selfish and ask his friend to stay. Steve didn’t look like he wanted to leave anyway. Steve: wonderful, shining Steve. “I really tried,” he murmured, aware of the haze in his head seeping back now that he didn’t have anyone looking to him for leadership. “I was going to free them. I’m so sorry. I tried.”

“Nothing you could have done,” Steve shook his head. “You don’t have to be sorry, least of all to me.”

“I broke everything,” Thor promised sincerely. “I tore it all to pieces. I killed them, and I broke their tools. I destroyed it all.” The individuals who had hurt Steve might have left with the prisoners, but he liked to think a few had died that day. Revenge wasn’t productive, but he couldn’t deny it felt good to consider the fact that someone of the people who had harmed Steve in any way were gone.

Steve took his hand and rubbed his arm, smiling sadly. “You did. You beat them, and you came home. That’s a victory.”

Not the victory he’d wanted, though. But Steve was right: it was an undeniable win. He sighed and relaxed muscles he hadn’t noticed he’d been clenching, sinking deeper into the pillows that cradled  him. Steve’s hand came to his forehead, stroking back his hair, his thumb rubbing up and down between his eyebrows in comforting sweeps.

“Get some sleep,” Steve suggested. “I’ll be right here, okay? I’m not going to leave.”

His body cried out for more rest, weary from working so hard to heal him and replenish the all the blood he’d lost. Steve gently moved some pillows and helped him lie flatter. He pulled the blankets from under his arms and tucked them round his shoulders. Slender hands continued to stroke his hair, and Thor fell asleep to that and the overwhelming blanket of safety Steve’s mere presence provided.

\--

Thor didn’t dream that often, but when he did it was generally a nightmare born of anxiety. Tonight brought one of the worst nightmares he’d had in a while.

HYDRA took his friends, took Steve, stole him away and chained him in that room. They strung him up and cut open his back, slicing open the burns drawn into it. All he could do was watch. He was running as fast as he could, but Steve wasn’t getting any closer. It would be too late once he got there. Steve’s screams filled his brain as the HYDRA soldier sliced him bloody.

Thor pushed all his strength into his legs, angry and desperate. The soldier was finished with the back, moving round to the front and exchanging his knife for a poker. He pushed the glowing steel into Steve’s chest, and Steve cried out, sobbing and begging, able only to watch as the HYDRA insignia was branded into him a second time. Thor screamed back, pleading for it to end, to trade places, anything to see Steve free.

The soldier couldn’t hear him. The soldier was taking artistic liberties, moving the brand farther up Steve’s shoulders and curling the tentacles around his slender neck. Surely the pain would have been too great. Surely Steve would have passed out, or maybe the trauma would have killed him by now. In this nightmare world, there was no release for him. He kept on screaming, and the soldier wrapped the brand all the way round his neck and up to his jaw. He continued on, mercilessly enjoying his work as he melted more lines around Steve’s chained arms. Steve yanked and thrashed, but he couldn’t get away. He was bleeding and covered in weeping welts, eyes bright with agony but still just as lucid. The soldier laughed at him, scorned and mocked him, and pressed the HYDRA tentacles all the way down both of Steve’s arms. He burned them into Steve’s soft palms, across his fingers, and into the tender underside of his wrists.

Thor couldn’t watch, but he had to. He wasn’t in control of his own head. All he could do was uselessly run and shout while the damage was done.

Nobody could survive that. The trauma alone would kill the strongest of men. When his legs finally started to bring him closer, it was far too late. The soldier was done, walking off and vanishing from the dream. Thor stumbled over, ripping away the chains and pulling Steve into his lap. Steve, who was somehow still alive, his face soaked with tears and his  whole body slick with blood and fluid leaking from the grotesque cuts on his back and the new burns on his arms and front. It was horrible, sickening. He wanted to be sick, but he couldn’t.

He cradled Steve as carefully as he could, even though it probably didn’t matter at this point. There was no more pain Steve could feel beyond this, surely. He was shivering from the trauma of it, blood dribbling over his lips from a throat torn from screaming. Thor wiped it away, wiped at the tears and stroked back Steve’s forelock. This was goodbye, he knew it. He’d failed. He hadn’t beat HYDRA, and HYDRA had come to steal Steve back. He’d failed Steve.

“It’s  gonna be alright,” Steve rasped, his voice wet with blood and barely audible. He could barely move, but he was reaching up with burned fingers and wrapping them in Thor’s shirt. “ Gonna be alright, Thor.”

“No,” Thor sobbed. “No, it’s not. It can’t be. Not without you. I can’t do it without you.”

“Be right here,” Steve shivered uncontrollably, his hand shaking violently as he pushed a finger into Thor’s heart. “Right here.” And he smiled, impossibly.

“No,” Thor choked. If Steve wasn’t going to be here with him, he wasn’t sure he could fight. If HYDRA could destroy Steve, then what hope did anyone else have? “I can’t. I don’t want to. I need you.”

“Can,” Steve coughed, curling his fingers into Thor’s shirt again and pulling. Somehow, he was managing to put some strength behind it, actually bending Thor toward him. “You can,” he whispered, shutting his eyes. Thor was about to open his mouth to protest more adamantly, but Steve’s mouth was over it, his tongue pushing inside with impossible strength.

Warmth rushed through him as Steve kissed him. Steve should be dead, shouldn’t be able to move like this, but he was holding Thor to him and working his lip with his own blood-and-tear-soaked ones. They were salty and soft, but the inside of his mouth tasted just how Thor imagined it would. It was so good, too good to be true, or possible.

They were rolling in the dirt, Steve’s bloody body somehow still functioning. He was rolling Thor onto his back, moving lithely over him and tearing open his shirt, their hips pressed flush together, mouths still rolling in and out of each other. “Your Highness,” Steve moaned, more powerful than anyone had a right to be.

“Not to you,” Thor groaned in reply, throwing back his head so Steve could suck his way down his throat. “Not to you, Steve.”

Steve’s blood was smearing into his shirt as the other man pushed him into the ground, slight body all over him. He was so strong, so pure, and Thor wanted it anywhere he could get it.

He was so close. Steve was doing what he liked, his eyebrow quirked, sassy and taking. HYDRA ripped it all away. Maybe it was better he didn’t dream about this... But it was too cruel a way to end. Steve was yanked off of him and thrown aside like a ragdoll, an octopus with a huge skull for a head tangling him up. The marks on his body burst into flame, and Steve howled an ungodly sound. Thor cried out, but it was too late. Steve was gone. The demonic creature dropped his lifeless body to the ground with a poof of dust.

“I will burn everything you love,” it hissed, turned its empty eye sockets on him.

He awoke crying, broken sobs wrenching from his throat. Thor gasped and sat up, choking on his grief and staring around the room. It was dark again. He must have slept into the night. The moon was full and real.

Where was Steve? Thor turned his head, throwing off the blankets in preparation to get up and search if he had to, but Steve was right there in his chair, already awake and moving quickly toward him, pushing him back into the pillows. “Hey, hey Thor. Look at me.”

Thor squirmed in the sheets, too frantic to be still until he was certain this was real, and that the vivid image of Steve’s torn body was just something cruel his mind had conjured. Steve looked fine, his borrowed shirt clean and white. His neck and arms were smooth like they should be, his eyes bright and alive, but creased with worry.

“Look at me,” Steve ordered, and Thor fell still. “Good, breathe. With me, okay?” Steve breathed, in and out, as deeply as the other man’s smaller chest and weak lungs would allow. It was better than what Thor was pulling right now, though, so he tried to match the pace and calm himself. It was hard. The dream had looked so real.

Steve sat beside him on the bed and took his hand, putting it to his chest and holding it firmly there, reaching out with the other hand to stroke his face and wipe away the tears with his sleeve. Thor could only lay there in shock, his hurting body betraying him, Steve’s heart beat thumping against his palm.

“Easy,” Steve whispered, “that’s it.”

Thor drew in one shaky breath after the next, bringing himself back down. He swallowed, his chest tight and his throat throbbing.

Steve wiped away new tears as they welled up. “You’re alright,” he murmured, clasping the hand tighter against his chest and stroking back Thor’s hair. “Shh, you’re alright. You wanna talk about it?”

It was too violent to recount, but Thor couldn’t pretend nothing had happened. “They took you,” he croaked, “and I couldn’t stop them. They took you, and I was too late.”

“It wasn’t real,” Steve promised. 

“I’d protect you,” Thor moaned. “I wouldn’t let them take you.”

“I know,” his friend smiled back sadly. “I know you wouldn’t.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” Thor could only manage a whisper as the tears came back. He grasped Steve’s shirt and pulled him down, wrapping both arms tightly around him. “I can’t.”

Steve hugged back, feeding his arms under Thor’s back and squeezing. He rocked a little, tipping his body side-to-side. “Shh,” he gently admonished. “You won’t. And I’m  gonna protect you too, alright?”

Thor nodded into Steve’s shoulder, shaking with pain and how badly his dream had pierced him.

“I’m  gonna get you some water,” Steve said. “Then you have to rest, okay? Magic healing or not. You’re hurt.”

No, he didn’t want to rest. Thor tensed up, clutching Steve tighter and shaking his head. He couldn’t go back to sleep after that.

Steve didn’t argue with him. “Okay,” he agreed sympathetically. “But you  gotta let go, okay? I won’t leave, promise.”

Thor let go, moaning softly in pain. Steve unwrapped his arms from around Thor’s ribs and laid them carefully on his belly, tucking the blankets under them and sitting him a bit higher. Steve didn’t bother putting the cup of water into his hand, pressing it straight to his lips instead. Thor drank, the coolness of the water helping him settle back into reality.

“Better,” Steve smiled at him, stroking his forehead sympathetically with long artist’s fingers, wiping away the sweat with the back of his hand. “You’re alright.”

It felt good, but it wasn’t enough to soothe him back to sleep. “Steve?” he whispered tentatively.

“Yeah?” came the eager reply.

“Can I ask you a favor?”

“’course...”

Thor pushed up the blankets beside him invitingly,  hopefully . Steve didn’t waste a second crawling under, wrapping his arm around Thor’s chest and resting his head on his unhurt shoulder. “Better?” he murmured, and Thor agreed with a weary nod, shutting his eyes. Steve’s weight pushed on top of him, shielding him from the horrors of what would never come to pass. He wrapped a hesitant arm around Steve’s waist, careful of his scarred back, but the other man made no move to stop him, so he pulled gently, pressing their bodies tighter together. He rested his wrapped hand on Steve’s tapered waist, and Steve grasped his ribs protectively in return.

They fell asleep entangled in each other.

\--

The dream lingered in the back of his mind, but the rest of his night was restful, and he woke up feeling stronger and less tender. A day and two nights of bedrest had worked wonders, plus of course the care of his friends to help him along. As much as he hated to be down for any amount of time, he didn’t mind their fussing, least of all Steve’s. The other man didn’t make a big deal out of helping him, but he was constantly present, tucking in blankets and moving pillows around as-needed.

Steve helped him get dressed. The worst was behind him, but he was still too stiff and sore to move properly. Steve didn’t ask, didn’t make a fuss as he knelt to pull Thor’s boots on one at a time. Then he stood, not shying away from offering his help to stand. Thor took it.

His leg and back and hip made it difficult to walk, but his gait loosened after a couple of steps, the stiffness of lying in bed for so long quickly worked away. Steve helped him limp to the table, shouldering his weight like it was nothing, even though it had to be burdensome. But he didn’t back down, so Thor continued to lean on him, grateful for the help.

They sat at the table for breakfast. Steve pulled up another chair and rested Thor’s leg on it, wrapping a blanket round his shoulders before sitting adjacent to him.

“What have you been doing while I was gone?” Thor asked curiously. He’d only been gone one day, but he was still curious what his friend had gotten up to.

“Some training,” Steve explained. “With Natasha. I did some more painting, and I went for a walk in the city. Nothing too exciting.” He smiled calmly and shrugged. “No stories to tell.”

Thor chuckled. His dream felt like a lifetime ago, even though he could still clearly imagine what had been done to Steve and the sound of his inhuman screams. More than that, though, he could still feel Steve’s hands on him, their mouths moving hotly together. And he wasn’t sure what to make of that, least of all what to do with how it made him feel.

“You alright?” Steve raised an eyebrow at him, just like he had in the dream... “You’re drifting off.”

Thor snapped out of it and nodded with a smile, hardly able to make eye-contact without that warm feeling spreading through him and a flush creeping into his cheeks. Perhaps he could pass it off that he wasn’t feeling well. His body usually did get a bit warmer when it was in this stage of healing.

“Good, you look a lot better,” Steve smiled kindly, to which Thor softly blushed and focused on his food, smiling to himself as he chewed.

They ate and talked. Steve told him about his day, about all the shops he’d visited and the things he’d never seen before which had never been made in his village. He talked about his training with Natasha, and he looked so happy and pleased with himself as he described how she’d tossed him around like a ragdoll. He was going to keep training with her, and Thor was glad.

At the end of breakfast, Steve helped him up. He felt a lot better having eaten what he needed, but the help was greatly appreciated. It took the strain off his leg and the pierced muscle in his lower back.

“Where to?” Steve asked. “It’s a sunny day... We could go for a walk, if you want.”

Thor wasn’t sure he wanted to go for a walk. Maybe tomorrow. “Ah,” he smiled. “I know. I have something for you.” And he pulled away, limping across the room to his closet.

Steve hovered, a frown of confusion on his face as he watched, hovering somewhat worriedly.

Thor reached into his closet, rummaging for a few things he knew were folded near the back of the top drawer. Sure enough, some of his and Loki’s old clothes were still stuffed in here, forgotten and unused in years. Something here would fit Steve. He limped to the bed and set down the pile, unfolding a few things and spreading them out. “Something to wear, for the celebration,” he explained. “I thought perhaps you might like something nicer to wear.” Would he though? Would Steve want to dress up in royal attire? Maybe he would prefer just a shirt.

But Steve was walking over and staring at the jackets curiously. “Are... are you sure?”

“Certainly,” Thor beamed. He wanted nothing more than to see Steve dressed in this rich royal blue jacket with the gold clasps and black patterns. He picked it up hopefully. “Try it on.”

“Are you still going to go?” Steve asked as he took the jacket and slid his arms through the sleeves, hesitantly pulling it over his shirt and struggling with the clasps. They were too small and fiddly for him to manage with his tremor. 

Thor reached out, patiently moving Steve’s hands aside and doing up the fasteners himself. “It’s only a few days away,” he agreed. “I’ll be better by then. Believe me, I would use this as an excuse to call it short if I could.”

“Still could,” Steve shrugged, watching him finish with the last clasp. He tugged on the edge of the jacket, straightening and pushing back his shoulders, eyes thoughtful as he decided if it was comfortable or not. “I’m sure they’d understand if you said you were sore and went to bed early.”

It was a tempting thought, but he had a duty beyond killing HYDRA soldiers. Thor chuckled and took a step back so he could admire the coat. “I’ll keep the option in mind,” he murmured. The garment fit Steve so well. Loki had been of a slender build, and this was one of his from his younger years. If Thor was being honest, though? It suited Steve better. The colors were more flattering for Steve’s blue eyes and blonde hair, the cut more fitting for his straight shoulders and tapered waist. It made him look taller, concealing the thinness of his body without taking away from his slender build.

Steve frowned and turned to inspect himself, still oblivious to Thor’s staring, admiring eyes as he tried to decide what he thought. “Fits nice,” he admitted, looking up.

_ That it does.  _ “I think you might have to wear it,” Thor shook his head as if breaking terrible news. “Nothing can be done.”

“Are you really sure?” Steve frowned, looking at the sleeves then back up at the king. “It’s way too nice.”

“It’s certainly too nice for the back of my dresser,” Thor agreed whole-heartedly.

Steve acquiesced to his wishes reluctantly, but Thor could see that he like the jacket, even if it was probably the fanciest thing he’d ever worn. Thor put everything else away and folded it, laying it at the front of his drawer, buzzing with renewed excitement for the celebration.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got so many drawings on the go for this, and I so badly wanted to have them ready, but alas, depression and school combined have slowed my work. Good thing I write chapters ahead of time and stock-pile them when I can B)  
> Drawings to come, promise <3 as well as some payoff to the slow burn. I really, really promise that something will happen within the next couple of chapters B)

Everyone had assured him so many times, but it was still remarkable how quickly Thor healed. After the first couple of days spent hurting and struggling, he was moving much better, no longer so hunched and pale and exhausted.

Steve still didn’t want to leave him alone for a second, though. He knew the danger had passed, and that probably no-one else was going to break in to murder the king in his sleep. Even if they did, Thor was feeling better, well enough to defend himself. Despite those reassurances, Steve embraced the feeling of protectiveness and hung close. He could tell the others were feeling the same; they were usually nearby, keeping watch. It didn’t matter how strong Thor was – they were all clustering around him to protect him. Maybe they were all a bit nervous he’d run off again, too.

The preparations for the Fall celebrations were carrying through, and Thor was insistent that he help, even though he was still limping pretty badly, and struggling to lift  anything. Regardless, the king put on his brave, confident face and took charge. His friends were there to help, of course, but he needed to be at the face of it, to encourage his people. They needed to see that their king was well, and that he could still lead and protect them. And Thor needed to move and be useful to mitigate the anxieties exacerbated by recent events, even if he was still healing. Steve kept close, so that when the day was over, and Thor’s body was worn out from walking around so much, the king could lean into him a little and find some relief.

Steve took care of him, helped him when his wounds hindered his movement, made sure he was comfortable, and slept with him in his bed. He didn’t think much of it, crawling under the covers and wrapping himself around Thor’s body as if his small frame would make much of a shield for his friend’s much larger one. It probably looked ridiculous, Steve acting as if he could protect Thor, his antithesis when it came to health and stature, but Thor didn’t seem to mind. Liked it, in fact. And Steve  _ had _ protected him.

Thor held him close, wrapping a thick arm so carefully around Steve’s thin waist, so delicate with his scarred back. Steve didn’t mind the touch, and a bit of pressure wouldn’t hurt him, so he’d grabbed Thor’s wrist and tugged the arm tighter around himself. He slept propped on Thor’s broad chest, warm and comfortable, careful of his tender wounds.

Those wounds healed at a remarkable rate, almost right in front of his eyes. The cut in his face was already faded to a pale, thin line, and would likely vanish in another day. The rest of his wounds wouldn’t scar either, would disappear like they’d never been there at all. It was a miraculous thing, something that shouldn’t be possible. It was relieving and worrying at the same time; because though Steve was glad to know Thor had that buffer to keep him safe, he also knew the king was inclined to throw himself into danger because of it. That scared him.

The celebration was today, and Steve was a little nervous. It was going to be unlike anything he had ever participated in. He going to wear that gold-trimmed jacket, and there were going to be a lot of people there...  But he was part of this kingdom now, and he felt it was his responsibility to attend. Plus, it might be fun. He sat on the edge of the bed and fiddled with his hands.

A pile of clothes landed on the bed beside him, and he looked up to see Thor standing over him, his smile a mixture of peace, excitement, longing, and reverence. The last of his bandages had come off yesterday, leaving the wounds open. New skin was healing steadily over the deep tears, erasing them by the hour.  _ If HYDRA got their hands on you... they could burn you over and over and over again.  _ He wasn’t sure what brought that thought to mind, but it was horrible, and his back ached in sympathy.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Thor raised his eyebrow a little and picked up the garment off the top of the pile, their shoulders almost touching as the king leaned over. Muscle slid and flexed under smooth skin as he moved, and Steve watched closely, alert for any signs of pain. The king wasn’t moving with his usual fluidity and strength, but he was getting there. He gave a soft grunt as he straightened and handed over a shirt.

“I want to,” Steve answered, frowning. “ Sure you’ll be alright for today...?” His friend was still favoring his injured leg and guarding his shoulder.  _ I’ll stay close, just to be sure. _

The king squeezed Steve’s shoulder and gave him a warm smile. “I’m certain,” he agreed. “Thank you. I’ll be alright.”

Steve nodded, glad that his friend was better. “You  look really good.”

“You’ve taken good care of me,” Thor’s smile crinkled his eyes as he reached out to give Steve’s hair a vigorous ruffle.

Steve batted him away. “Hey! We’re supposed to be getting ready.” He pulled the shirt over his head and blew some hair from his face.

“I was fixing it.” Thor declared, putting on his own shirt and tucking it into his pants. They were snug around his tapered hips, complementing his broad shoulders.

“Was fine how it was,” Steve muttered, pink and unable to pull the grin from his face no matter how he fought. He straightened his shirt and tucked his in too, reaching up to try and arrange his hair. He reached back for the blue jacket, feeding his arms tentatively through the sleeves. It still fit, and he was still hesitant to wear something this... decorative. Not that he didn’t like it, it was just odd.  _ My handsome boy.  _ He could hear his mama, see her arrange his old shirt patched beyond recognition, as if that would make some kind of difference. He could feel her fingers smoothing down his hair before going to wipe some dirt off his cheek. Then she’d take his face, and he would protest because that’s what you did when your mother fussed over you, no matter how much you liked it. Then she would plant a fat kiss on his forehead while he tried to half-heartedly wriggle away.

A gold clasps hung open, and he stared at his hands unable to do them up. Sarah Rogers would have told him to be presentable and act like he belonged here, because he did.  _ You’re worth just as much as they are, Steven Grant.  _ _ So _ _ you hold your head up high and stride right in there. _

Thor appeared over him again, half-finished getting into his formal royal attire. He got to one knee and took Steve’s hands, moving them aside and reaching up for the jacket clasps. “Are you alright?” he asked quietly, looking up and making eye contact while his sure fingers dealt with the fiddly task.

“ Thinkin ’ about my ma,” Steve admitted quietly, staring at his lap. Thor’s stare was powerful enough to draw his eyes upward and hold his gaze in place. “Just a bit  nervous, I guess. Never worn anything this nice, or been to a party.”

Thor smiled sadly at him. “You have no reason to be nervous,” he explained calmly. “It is a gathering of all sorts, of all classes. Many people dress their best for this event, and you may be surprised at the prosperity of the common folk.”

“Feels a bit weird,” Steve shrugged and looked away again. “Like... it doesn’t... fit.”

“You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to,” Thor offered, a tad guilty. “I’m not trying to dress you up for show. If you feel more comfortable in your regular clothes, you’re more than welcome to wear them. You won’t look out of place. And you won’t look out of place in this, either. I promise.”

“I do  kinda like it...” Steve admitted. For a moment, he was lost in Thor’s admiring stare, stricken by how new it was. Nobody had ever looked at him quite like that. Bucky had expressed admiration for his strength and stubbornness before, and his mother had always looked at him with love and pride; but this was something wildly different in intention. Steve had no idea what that was.

“Good, I was hoping you would,” Thor stood up and reached by him, draping the last couple of items over his shoulder then holding out his hands. “Stand up.”

Steve accepted the help and lifted his arms so Thor could wrap a sash around his waist and tighten a belt neatly over top. The last item was a lighter, looser coat with wide mid-length sleeves. It hung open and fell to his thighs. Thor straightened the collar and smoothed out the shoulders, looking him up and down with pride.

“Suits you,” the king smiled, looking back into his eyes and reaching up his hands. “One last thing.” He pushed his fingers through Steve’s hair, smoothing down rogue locks and brushing back his forelock. As always, his touch was soft and gentle. He finished, pulled back a step to admire Steve in full with a prideful grin. “Perfect.”

It was  _ Thor _ who was perfect, dressed in rich reds and decorated in gold. He hadn’t even finished dressing yet, but he already looked every bit the king that he was. Noble. Steve had never seen him dress like that before. It was breathtaking. “Wow...” Steve murmured. “Why don’t you dress like this all the time?”

Thor whirled on his heel and strode purposely for his closet, ripping it open perhaps a tad less graceful than usual, wounds aside. “It’s a fair bit flashier than I prefer,” the king grabbed a few things out of his dresser, doing up the front of his jacket and adding adornments to it. He wrapped cloth in richer, deeper scarlet over his shoulder and around his chest, fastening it with a gold buckle decorated with the Asgardian star. Then he limped over to his desk and pulled open a box, rummaging inside. The cuts on his hand were nothing more than a than thin pink lines, but his fingers were unsteady. Steve watched curiously as he pulled out some chain links of various sizes and looped a couple of them over his own neck before walking back over.

Thor draped a thin silver chain over Steve’s head, setting the pendent against the cloth over his breast bone. It was a beautifully-crafted Asgardian star, decorated with neat swirling lines. It was beautiful, and probably worth more than the entire combined fortune of the Rogers’ household – even before it had been burned to the ground and pillaged for all its meager value.

“You could pass for a prince,” Thor smiled, pink in the cheeks and his eyes glowing with amber pleasure.

“Hardly,” Steve grinned, staring up from the necklace to the man who’d laid it round his neck. “Flatter me all you want, but it won’t make me want to wear this every day.”

“What about if I ordered you, as your king?” Thor tried.

“You can sure try,” Steve smirked. “Where’s your crown? I’m not takin’ orders from a king without a crown.” He  _ knew  _ Thor  _ had _ to have a crown... and he really,  _ really _ wanted to see him wear it.

He got what he wanted. Thor turned back to his desk and knelt, unlocking a lower compartment and lifting out a box, which he set down on the table and also unlocked. He reached inside and lifted out a gold crown, somewhat embarrassed as he held it in his hands. It was the simple in design, engraved and embossed, but unadorned with jewels or other embellishments.

Steve walked over and plucked the crown out of Thor’s hands. It was incredibly light and polished to perfection. It looked untouched for years. He wondered when it had last been worn. A whole year ago, at the last celebration...? Steve stretched up his hand and pushed Thor’s hair off his forehead, brushing it to the side. It was woven with little braids at the temples, but otherwise just as smooth and wavy as usual. Thor bent his head and Steve stood up on his toes. He set the crown on top of the king’s head, and it fit perfectly.

He took a step back, and Thor straightened, blinking slowly and sadly under the weight of the ornament on his head. Steve smiled at him. “There,” he said quietly, straightening the necklaces draped around  Thor’s neck.

“What kind of king doesn’t wear a crown...” Thor whispered with a sigh, as if it were a forbidden question, yet one that had plagued him for a thousand years. It was spoken softly, as if palpating a tender wound, filled with self-doubt but strong underlying currents of duty.

Steve’s smile became softer. He was by no means an expert on how anything was supposed to work, but he did know one thing: Thor was every bit a king, inside and out. Steve answered in full confidence. “This kind.” And he raised a hand and pushed his finger into Thor’s chest, into the solid muscle and straight through to the heart. “Besides,” he added with a little smirk. “You’re  _ are  _ a king. So you don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to.”

Thor smiled at that, chuckling quietly and staring at the hand pressing into his heart. He opened his mouth to say something, hanging in silence before smiling brighter and giving up with a shake of his head. He squeezed Steve’s hand, and when he turned around his shoulders were tight. Steve reached out worriedly, but Thor was just walking over to his desk to pull out another box.

Inside was another crown, a small silver band sparsely decorated. Thor carried it over, and Steve stood rigid as it was placed on his head. Thor’s seemed taken aback by the sight, unable to tear his eyes away as he struggled to find words. “If I must wear it, so will you,” he joked, but the tone was hopeful. “Now you really look like a prince.”

“Are you ordering me?” Steve lifted his eyebrow.  _ I can’t wear this... _

“As your king, yes,” Thor replied quickly. “Yes, I am.”

Steve didn’t know what to make of the way Thor was looking at him, and even less how it was making his heart do little skips in his chest. He  sort of hoped he was having palpitations, because at least that was familiar, but he had a feeling it wasn’t that at all. Tension hung in the air as they walked toward the hall together, so close yet not quite touching.

Anything that hadn’t been said was left to hang in the air as they stepped into the hall, and the swell of the party  imprisoned them.

\--

People laughed and danced and ate, filling the great hall. Music swelled above it all, mixing with the smell of fresh, abundant food. It all rushed over Steve in a tidal wave, and he was so shocked by it that he had to reach out and cling to Thor’s belt for fear of getting swept away. He followed the king very closely, taking it all in. At least with his deaf ear everything was a bit muted on one side.

The king was greeted by cheerful citizens, and he in turn treated them as his equals. In that short walk from his room to here, he had completely erased his limp and was standing perfectly straight, presenting the image his people needed to see. It was an image, but only in the sense that it hid the unwanted under tight and practiced layers of charm – none of which was manufactured. That was still Thor smiling away at his people, nodding his thanks to their concerns, carefully guiding children around him as they ran by. It was Thor, just without the deep, deep layers beneath this approachable, noble coating.

True to his word, Steve stayed close. It would be impossible to get lost inside this one room, but there was so much going on that he didn’t want to stray from what he knew. Not before he got his bearings at least.

“It will be a long day.” Thor was passing him a mug of ale and a piece of bread, which Steve took, knowing he would need to keep hydrated to survive the many hours that lay ahead. The king’s eyes lingered on Steve’s body a bit longer than the exchange required.

They walked past the open space allocated for dancing, and Steve watched as they passed. People swirled along with the music: men, women, children, and all combinations. Soldiers Steve recognized from training danced with their partners. Mothers danced with their children. Friends danced with friends.

Bucky would have loved this. He’d dreamed of better places, especially in the HYDRA prison camp, because it had kept them both going, regardless of the impossibility of it. Bucky would have found himself a girl in no time at all and been spinning around the dance floor with her. He’d have learned Asgardian dances like he’d been born doing them and improvised in between, the perfect gentleman, at ease with himself and the situation.

Steve wasn’t so sure. He didn’t know how to dance, and was certain he wouldn’t be much good at it. He felt out of breath just thinking about it.

There was so much mirth all around he was drowning in it. War was forgotten, HYDRA no more than a distant nightmare waiting at the end of the day. For now, while the sky was bright, there was no worry, and no fear. Steve had already promised himself he would stay, but this feeling of  community was too precious to walk away from.

“Are you alright?” Thor’s voice rumbled deeply beside him. He looked up, and the king was smiling gently at him.

It struck him suddenly that Thor was the  _ king.  _ The ruler of this land, the one entrusted to protect all these people gathered here and in the city. And Steve was just... here. Steve slept with him in his bed, borrowed his clothes. They spent hours talking casually, or sometimes just enjoying each other’s company while they went about their business. They had fought together in battle, tended each other’s wounds, comforted each other, cried and laughed together.

“I’m...” This was too impossible for words. All it served was a confirmation of Thor’s kind heart, that his title hadn’t separated them, or prevented them from being friends.  _ More _ than friends, something in his brain (and his heart) muttered distantly. “I’m good,” Steve gave a cheerful, reassuring smile, thinking back to all those times where Thor had stood admiring him. There were a lot, now that he thought about it. Admiring how he looked in these clothes, admiring his determination when he’d snuck in with the other soldier, admiring his artwork regardless of how badly his shaking hands interfered with his drawings, or how inexperienced he was at painting. 

And Steve hadn’t been sick in ages. This must be one of his longest streaks of feeling so healthy. His lungs hadn’t been bothering him, and his asthma was on the low. It was tough to keep up during training, but he was getting by. He had energy every day, and his back didn’t ache, from either his crooked spine or his scars.

Thor patted him heartily on the shoulder, a bit pink as he had been consistently for the past couple of days. “I’m pleased. Perhaps you would dance with me, if you feel so lively.”

“I should be asking you,” Steve quirked an eyebrow and jabbed back to hide his little flutter of surprise. “You might wear yourself out. Day’s just started.”

“All the better to try it now, then, while both of us have the energy,” Thor agreed readily, walking them to the edge of the crowd and holding out his hand. “Come on, the people expect their king to dance, and I cannot do so by myself.”

Steve rolled his eyes, following even though he had no idea what he was doing, as usual. But Thor was guiding him, endorsing the idea and encouraging Steve’s participation. Steve couldn’t turn him down. “Just try to keep up,” he laughed, totally forgetting his inability to dance in a single second.

That didn’t matter, not to Thor at least, and so Steve didn’t bother himself with it either. The fact slipped his mind as he trailed after the king, trying to stuff down the last of his self-consciousness and just enjoy himself like everyone else was. Thor took both of his hands, threading their finger and pulling him around in a circle in time with the music. And the people watched their king, enamored. The dance floor was suddenly a lot more crowded as more people joined in. Formality was non-existent. Steve wondered if it had always been this way, or if the kingdom had been much different under Thor’s father’s rule. Steve wondered if he’d have even been allowed to spend so much intimate time with the then-crown-prince of this mighty nation. Thor hadn’t said much about his father, so there wasn’t anything to go off of. It didn’t matter, anyway, just like everything else in the world other than his and Thor’s tangled hands as they moved in time with the music, but without any sort of choreography.

He was getting too into it the dance, letting the pace quicken until he could feel his lungs start to protest. That was alright. He was having far too much fun to care that his body couldn’t handle it, but Thor noticed his shortness of breath and led him aside, a supportive hand between his shoulder blades as he guided him safely off to one side. 

“Rest a moment,” Thor chuckled, finding him a chair from nowhere and offering him more drink. “I apologize... I was perhaps too enthusiastic.”

Steve waved a hand, panting around the rim of the cup. He swallowed, beaming. “ S’fine ,” he huffed. “Havin’ a great time.”

“I’m glad,” Thor’s smile was radiant. He reached down to squeeze Steve’s shoulders.

“Go on without me,” Steve shooed him. “Let me catch my breath. Be alright here for a few minutes.”

“Alright,” Thor squeezed again, but did obey, slipping away reluctantly to tend to his duties.

Steve watched him with a soft smile, drinking slowly from his cup. He watched Thor transition back into full king mode, mingling with everyone. He greeted craftsmen from the town with admiring handshakes, laughed as children ran around his legs, praised mothers on those same children. Steve couldn’t hear a word, but he could read lips and expressions and postures. The king offered a lonely woman on the sidelines a dance, and Steve didn’t notice the small thorn of jealously in his chest until Thor was leading the laughing, breathless woman over to a soldier alone by the orchestra.

Thor brightened everything with his warm glow. No matter how deep in the crowd he was buried, Steve could always see his golden hair and the crown on top. He leaned against the edge of the table on his elbow and rested his cheek in his hand to watch contentedly at a distance. Despite the small pretenses drawn in place to maintain his image, Thor’s laugh and smile were still candid and beautiful as he joked with a group of soldiers and graciously received complements in return. Steve didn’t mind observing from a distance at all.

“What’s up, Soldier?  Lookin ’ a little starstruck.” Tony waltzed up beside him, drink in-hand. “You eat somethin’ funny?”

“What? No, I’m fine,” Steve quickly shook his head and had a shaky sip of drink, drowning the sensation of being caught in the act of a crime. “Good to see you.”

“Yeah, well, His Highness knows how to throw a party,” Tony shrugged, swirling the liquid around in his cup  nonchalantly. “Where is His Golden Majesty anyway?”

“Over there,” Steve pointed to the other side of the room.

Tony nodded, drinking a mouthful thoughtfully and savoring it for a moment or two. “How is he, by the way?”

“Fine,” Steve agreed with a nod. “Should be healed in a day or two.”

“Good to hear,” Tony agreed. “Anyway, catch you later. Enjoy the party.” And the blacksmith walked off.

Steve watched him weave through the crowd all the way to Thor, watched them speak a moment. Thor was smiling at something and nodding, glancing over to Steve. A few more words were exchanged, and Tony was walking off again. A few minutes later, Thor was finishing his conversation with the group of soldiers and making way back over. Steve’s heart lurched as the king slipped through a cluster of people chatting by the drinks and approached, both their smiles widening.

“Are you ready for some more festivities, my friend?” Thor held out his hand.

“I could be persuaded,” Steve grinned and set down his cup, taking the offered hand so he could be pulled to his feet. “Unless you’re getting sleepy.”

“Nonsense,” Thor chuckled. “There are a few more dances left in me yet.”

“ Sure it’s not too much for you?” Steve raised his eyebrows.

“Would you catch me if it was?” Thor smirked a little, his gaze a shade of deviousness yet undiscovered.

“Carry you all the way back to bed,” Steve promised. “Drag you by one leg if I had to, one slow step at a time.”

“Are you calling me fat?”

“I’m calling you heavy,” Steve gave his bicep a pat. “Come on, we  gonna dance or what?” This burst of confidence came from nowhere, his mouth turning feelings he couldn’t possibly untangle into a waterfall of words, because they had to go  _ somewhere.  _ He had never felt this bold, at least not in this way, but he was actually wrapping his hand tighter around the one Thor held and  _ leading _ him back toward the dancing. His body responded to a desire to be touched, one that went straight from his brain to his limbs without any time to think about why or what the hell was going on.

Thor obliged, following eagerly and cheerfully. And Steve  _ still _ didn’t know what he was doing, dancing or initiating the dance itself, but the music felt good in his legs, so he let himself be free and just move.

The celebration stretched on for hours and hours, until the sun had long-set and everyone was exhausted. Families with young children had long-since filtered out, carrying sleeping children with them. Couples were next, sagging into each other as they slumped happily off to bed. A few people who had arrived alone left with someone else. A couple of soldiers, pink with drink and enjoyment, staggered past laughing and falling into each other as they made their way out of the hall. Another couple were passed out on the floor together, snoring deeply. One of them Steve was pretty sure was a castle cook. Some servants were trying to clean up, but Thor gently shook his head and shooed them away, telling them to rest and come back to it tomorrow. Nothing was wasted, and no-one left hungry, the tables cleared of food.

Thor was limping a little as he came over, still smiling but obviously weary. It must have been draining being constantly amidst his people, trying to keep up the image they needed to see. They needed to know their king was strong in these dark times, and he had given them that. He had given them far more than he needed to.

Steve himself was so tired his hands were shaking worse than usual, but he hardly noticed. He’d genuinely enjoyed himself; eating, dancing with Thor, watching him move around the hall in all his majestic glory. Words were spilling into his mouth and rearranging themselves into sentences, but he never got a chance to say any of them, because Tony was coming over, and Thor was leading Steve after the inventor.

“Come on, my friend, one more thing before bed,” Thor squeezed his hand and drew him close. Sore and tired, they leaned into each other and set off after Tony.

Luckily, the inventor was a bit drunk and worn himself, so he wasn’t much faster as he led them all the way down to his workshop. Tony strode right in and leaned against the fireplace, pointing at an object propped in the corner and covered in a piece of cloth. “Right over there,” he gestured, wiggling his eyebrows up and down. “All yours,  yer Highness.” 

Thor pulled away and limped his way over, carefully lifting the object off the floor and turning around. All his confidence melted away on the short trip back, and they stood facing each other, Thor’s smile wavering as he licked his lips. “Here,” he said quietly. “For you.”

Steve reached out curiously, pulling the object from under the cloth. Thor drew the cloth back, and under it was a shield, perfectly smooth and round, shining silver. There was a star engraved in the center.

The whole thing was unbelievably light. Steve turned the disk in his hands and slid his arm through the leather straps at the back, tightening them clumsily, but managing. They were big enough for his fingers to grip, even shaking as badly as they were.  Receiving the gift was making them shake worse, but from what he couldn’t quite pin. There were too many implications for his tired brain to unpack.

“Do you like it?” Thor asked softly, strangely nervous for how confident and relaxed he’d been mere minutes ago.

“I love it,” Steve breathed as quickly as he could get the words out, smiling widely up at Thor’s kind, worried face. “It’s perfect. Thank you. You didn’t have to get me anything.”  _ You’ve given me everything already, and now you’re giving me this?  _ It wasn’t just the object being given, but the invitation to fight, the acknowledgement of his ability and worth and strength.

“Welcome to the Asgardian army,” Thor smiled, and Steve forgot every word he’d ever known, standing there in dumb silence, the shield on his arm, his mouth hanging slightly open. Thor chuckled, pleased with himself. “Come on, soldier. You can try it out tomorrow.”

Tony saw them off, waving them out of his workshop and passing out in the chair before they’d made the threshold. Thor turned back and tiptoed over, wrapping a blanket around the sleeping inventor. Steve loosened the straps of the shield and pulled them over his shoulders, holding out his arm to invite Thor to his side. Now that the pair were truly alone, Thor sagged a little into him, nodding in silent gratitude for the support. They limped down the hallway together, bypassing Steve’s room altogether.

Steve worked his lip as he deposited his shield in a chair by the table and helped his friend to the bed. Thor practically collapsed into it, barely giving Steve enough time to fold back the blankets.

They got undressed, Steve reaching over to help so Thor didn’t have to get out of bed again. The king tried, opening his mouth with realization and starting to move so he could take off his boots, but Steve just pushed him down and pulled them off himself. Their crowns went back where they’d come from, nestled in their boxes, and the rest of their  jewelry in another compartment. 

There was a ring on Thor’s finger he hadn’t noticed before. Steve sat on the edge of the bed to inspect it.

“Mother’s wedding ring,” Thor smiled sadly at it.

“It’s beautiful,” Steve slid it off Thor’s right pinky, imagining the queen’s thinner fingers wearing it instead. He turned the ring in the candlelight, admiring the runes engraved in the simple metal band. “What does it say?”

“Those are incantations written in an ancient, forgotten Asgardian language,” Thor explained, sitting up on the pillows with a wince and rubbing his shoulder. “My mother was one of the few who still remembered it. She was teaching me and my brother how to read the characters. I was never much good at it, but Loki caught on quite quickly. My mother made this for my father when they got married. It’s an incantation for safety and happiness and prosperity.”

“Well, it’s really beautiful,” Steve nodded, standing up to put it away with the rest of the jewelry. “And it suits you.”

Thor laughed quietly. “It is not so practical for battle,” he countered, undoing the belt from around his waist. He loosened all the adornments on his outfit and handed them over as Steve came to take them, reaching up for the clasps on his jacket next.

Steve shrugged, slipping out of the robe on top and folding it neatly on the table. “Might do more damage if you punch someone wearing it.”

“In that case, I shall wear a ring on every finger,” Thor chuckled, starting to sit. Steve rushed over to help him, even though the king was managing, and helped him out of his jacket and top. His wounds looked better than they had even this morning.

“You want anything for these?” Steve asked, unable to help his concern despite the improvement.

“I’m alright,” Thor smiled gratefully, reaching for Steve’s jacket to help get it off. With his shaking fingers, the other man was at the king’s mercy. Steve slid that off too and folded it, lastly adding his shirt to the pile.

Those words he’d been trying to form earlier were back, swirling inside his head, but Steve struggled to gather them into full sentences, or even to know what the hell he was even feeling. It didn’t matter though, because Thor was asleep. He was totally limp, his head lolled a bit to one side on the pillows, bare chest rising and falling with each strong breath. Steve sighed, a loose smile on his lips as he slunk over, not bothering to put on another shirt. He sat on the edge of the bed and worked off his boots, rolling under the covers and wrapping them both up in them. Whatever he wanted to say could be thought on and left until morning.

Steve wriggled a bit closer while he could still fight to keep his eyes open. He laid his head on Thor’s shoulder as usual, working his way under the king’s arm and wrapping it tightly around his waist. This was the only person he didn’t mind touching his scars. Thor’s touch was the only one that didn’t make his back itch nervously to be in contact with.

With on more glance back at the shield in the chair, Steve smiled to himself and nestled closer, passing out almost immediately.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feelin' a teenie, tiny bit better, so yay for that. I managed to get some drawings finished, yay! I'm not entirely happy with the design of the outfits, but this is close to what I pictures. Plus a little something that made me feel better :) Thanks Reklusa for popping that image into my head.
> 
> Oh my god, when will these morons kiss?!?!

Both of them slept later than usual, but both of them needed it. When Thor awoke, he found his wounds were almost gone, reduced to faded marks that would soon vanish altogether. Steve smacked his lips and roused only a few minutes later, and they got dressed together, Steve picking up his new shield and putting it on his back to walk down to the training grounds where Natasha was waiting. 

“Glad to see neither of you partied too hard yesterday,” she raised an eyebrow. “Your Highness.” 

“I have I few things that need seeing to,” Thor nodded. “But I will be back,” he squeezed Steve’s shoulder, wishing he could stay to watch his friends practicing. 

“Good luck,” Steve gave him a bright smile crackling with excitement. He seemed truly enamored with his gift, and Thor couldn’t be happier, glowing right back. He really, really didn’t want to go. 

But he had to. He was king, and his kingdom had just suffered betrayal by some of its highest-ranking court members. Obadiah had tried to _murder_ him, and the other indirectly. So Thor had to go, as much as his heart wanted him to stay right here with Steve. 

Bruce was already in the planning room, leaving aside his duties as court doctor to serve as an official advisor, even if he had always been one of Thor’s most trusted friends, and had always given his advice anyway. The doctor smiled at him. “How are you feeling? I haven’t seen you in a day.” 

“I’m doing well,” Thor agreed with a nod, striding over to the maps. “Thank you for your care.” 

“You hardly needed my help,” Bruce chuckled, but he looked pleased. “Anyway, that’s my job, as your doctor and your friend. You couldn’t convince me not to.” 

“And for that I am glad,” Thor smiled sadly at the map and reached over for a black piece. In all the commotion, it hadn’t yet been removed. Plucking it off the paper should feel good, but it didn’t feel like anything, as much as he knew that his mission had not been a failure. It _hadn’t_ been! He’d killed every last HYDRA agent remaining. _Except for the one that got away. That last man. The man with the strange powder._ His expression darkened as he stared at the map and contemplated that thought and everything he knew for a few moments. 

His dream came back to him as he nudged a couple of pieces, desperately dragging together everything he knew about the HYDRA encampments so he could make a workable plan. Steve’s scream bounced around inside his skull, even more distracting than the constant patronizing and scrutiny of his advisors had been. They were all gone, and the room felt huge. 

“We must continue to pick off their bases while we have momentum,” Thor spoke up, shoving aside memories of Steve’s horrific wounds and the rush of blood he felt when the dream progressed further. Steve’s hands on his body, fingers so long and capable, even if they shook, Steve’s power that went beyond his body – 

“You’re right. Word is only going to spread, and the longer we wait the more chance they have to prepare,” Bruce agreed, glancing over with his discerning stare. 

“We don’t know how much the advisors knew,” Thor nodded, “nor where they intend to bring their information. I will bring some men with me, and that may take them by surprise if they suspect only me once again.” 

Attacking alone had worked once, but he’d danced with fate, and worried his friends. Sacrifices might need to be made, and he needed to be prepared to make them. What if he ran off alone and died for it, or failed his mission, or both? _How angry would my friends be?_ Very, he supposed. He had toyed with their trust just this once. As much as he’d sort of enjoyed Steve taking care of him for a few days, it wasn’t a sustainable battle plan, and it just wasn’t fair. Steve’s fearful eyes and sorrowful pleas alone were enough to deter him from making such a decision again. 

“We’ll send out more scouts,” Thor decided, voicing his thoughts and looking over for Bruce’s approval. “Just to make sure extra fortifications haven’t been made in anticipation of our arrival. Once they return, I will bring a small group with me to destroy it. No-one must know if this until we leave.” Maybe there were other people listening who shouldn’t be. It would be stupid to assume the advisors had been the only traitors among them. 

Bruce gave his approval with a confident nod, squeezing Thor’s arm in solidarity. “Let me know how I can help.” 

“I will,” Thor promised. “Thank you.” 

For now, that was all they could do. The doctor walked off, and Thor went to prepare his orders and find his soldiers. Natasha and Steve were still working away from the main group, experimenting with the shield between them while she worked on a strategy that would best work for him. Thor tore his eyes away and walked over to Clint and the other soldiers instead, hovering back to watch as the group wrapped up their training session. 

“Greetings, Highness,” Clint gave him a small semi-formal dip of his head. 

“Clint,” Thor nodded back, turning to watch his soldier loosen their armor and wander off in small groups, sweaty and laughing. “I need you to send out more scouts, a few in all directions. We must destroy another HYDRA outpost as soon as we can, but I want to keep an eye on the spaces in between.” 

“You got it,” Clint nodded. “I’ll send some out this afternoon.” 

“As many as can be spared,” Thor nodded. “Information will be our greatest weapon at this stage.” Without all the facts, there was no way to defend or attack effectively. 

“Suits him,” Clint nodded over to where their two friends were still training, Natasha throwing attacks from all sides as fast as she could while Steve fought to hold his ground and protect himself. He was leaning all his weight into the shield, one foot slid backward. Natasha found his weak spoke, striking the shield just right and knocking him straight over. He clumsily fell, flailing his arms to brace his fall and leaving himself wide open. Natasha was on him in a flash, one boot barely touching his throat. 

But Steve got up, taking Natasha’s hand and shaking himself off. Tightening the straps to his arm, he raised the shield again and welcomed her onslaught. 

“That it does,” Thor murmured, proudly admiring the silver disk with the Asgardian star engraved boldly in the center. Steve was _his_ now, officially. Part of his army. Steve could never be owned, not by anyone, but seeing him bear this kingdom’s crest made some possessive part of Thor clench with a desire he could no longer ignore. 

Clint raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing, following him over to watch as the pair finished another bout of sparring. This time, Steve was getting the hang of his new weapon, ducking his head behind it, but making an effort to swing it out for an attack the second a blow bounced off. Natasha grabbed the edge and yanked the shield away from his body, turning and aiming a high kick for his head. Instinctively, Steve ducked, sliding his arm out of the straps and sweeping a kick for her ankles. It hit, and Natasha actually staggered for a moment. 

Just a moment. She recovered faster than Steve could make use of the opening, jumping over the fallen shield and wrapping her leg around his neck as she did. They rolled, tangled in a tight mess of limbs. When they came to a stop, Steve was scrambling hopelessly to get free of the leg Natasha had wrapped around his neck just tight enough to put the barest pressure on his throat. 

“Better,” she heaved, a pleased smirk all over her face as he struggled in her grip, weaving her other leg around his arm and holding it down. “You’re a fast learner. But you gotta move faster than that.” 

He nodded against her calf, tapping it with his free hand. She let him go, rolling gracefully to her feet and helping him stand. Steve rubbed his neck and bent down to pick up his shield, panting heavily but pleased with himself. 

“One day you’ll get tired of beating the shit out of him,” Clint folded his arms. “Poor guy’s gonna be covered in bruises by dinner.” 

“He doesn’t need to be coddled,” Natasha replied, picking up their training swords and draping her jacket over her shoulder. “If I go too easy on him he won’t learn anything.” Steve puffed out a little at that, shouldering his shield and walking over to greet Thor. His hair was a wild mess and his face red and shiny from exertion. Thor couldn’t stop his hand from reaching out to ruffle it, licking his smiling lips as he pulled Steve against him by his head. 

“Hey!” Steve reached up to paw him off. Thor easily defended, batting the protests aside and smoothing down Steve’s wild locks. 

“Come on, bath and lunch,” he ordered. “Natasha can throw you around some more tomorrow.” 

Steve submitted, waving goodbye to his friends watching on. Natasha was smirking when Thor looked back, and Clint was staring, opening his mouth to say something but stopping when she nudged him forcefully. 

\-- 

The pair found themselves back outside a few minutes later, lunch in-hand, striding into the open sun. Steve lay down in a bright patch and folded his arm behind his head, staring up at the sky. 

“You’re not planning on eating like that, are you?” Thor stood over him, taking off his jacket. It was certainly getting colder, but sky was bright, and there were just enough clouds to keep some heat in. 

Steve yawned, sitting up a little. “Couldn’t help myself.” He propped himself up and crossed his legs, picking up his apple and starting to eat, squinting in the sunlight. 

Thor came around and sat down in the grass, feelings choking him from the inside. They had to come out. He opened his mouth in an attempt to free himself of them, but nothing came out. They were stuck behind fear, apprehension, and the inability to actually express just what he was feeling. He had never felt this way before – all he could do was shut his mouth again and lay down, unabashedly resting his head in Steve’s lap. 

They stared at each other for a moment before Steve swallowed his bite of apple and spoke. “What are you doing?” he asked quietly. 

“A king can use whatever he likes as a pillow,” Thor replied confidently. 

“Sure you wanna use my bony legs?” Steve leaned over him, blocking the sun from his eyes with a hand and casting shadow over Thor’s face. His expression was difficult to read, tangled somewhere between pleasure and confusion. 

Thor sat up enough that he could gather his jacket into a ball and push it into Steve’s lap, resting his head on top. He shut his eyes and smiled at the sky, resting his hands over his belly. This was comfortable. For a moment he let his mind be blank, let himself float in this cloud of pleasure and peace. It was Steve’s hand on his forehead that made his heart lurch, bringing back all those thoughts and feelings he was still struggling hopelessly to wrangle into something he could express. 

Steve stroked his forehead, combing his hair with those long fingers vibrating slightly with his tremor. But the sweeps were smooth and sure, gathering locks of hair and arranging them neatly. Thor wasn’t sure what was stopping him when Steve clasped his face with both hands and bent over, pushing a kiss into his forehead. Surely this was the invitation, the sign that what he was feeling was nothing to be fearful of. 

But he was. The way Steve made him feel scared him, and he didn’t know why. He was a king – surely that would help? With any other person, maybe it would; as much as he held his position over Steve’s head as a joke, he’d always felt that Steve saw him as another man, an equal. That’s what he wanted. He wanted to stand on the same level as Steve. 

_I think I love you._

Perhaps that would be too much to ask, that Steve love him. The responsibility might be daunting, to be asked to stand up with him in front of all of Asgard. Maybe Steve would want a quiet life someday, down in the city. Thor couldn’t give him that, not if they were going to be together. 

And what if Steve said no? What if Steve didn’t feel the same way? It would crush him, he knew it. 

So he shut his mouth and enjoyed Steve’s fingers in his hair, shoving his thoughts aside for later contemplation. Perhaps if he stuffed them away, they would disappear and no longer become a problem. He could forget his dilemma, forget the ache and in his chest and move on. 

If it was possible, it was going to take some fighting. Thor opened his eyes and was staring right into Steve’s happy ones. 

“Don’t fall asleep,” Steve said quietly, the sun shining on one side of his face. “I really can’t carry you back, and I don’t think you’re allowed to abandon kings outside on their own.” 

“You think you could escape to leave me alone in the first place?” Thor raised his eyebrows. “Surely my head is too heavy. You yourself proclaimed how heavy I am.” 

“Would you have me executed if I said your skull was definitely too thick for me to lift your head?” Steve smirked, leaning his elbows on his knees and cupping his face in his hands. 

“Definitely. Very rude,” Thor agreed, clutching his fist to his heart in mock offense. “You’ve wounded me.” 

Steve threw his head back and laughed that gorgeous laugh, a cool wind swirling his hair around his face and rippling his shirt. A shiver seized his shoulders and he folded in on himself as he continued to chuckle. Thor pushed up, unfolding his jacket and wrapping Steve up in it, drawing the other man under his arm and pulling him to his feet. It was definitely starting to get a bit chilly outside, and the sky was already showing signs of darkening, even though it wasn’t time for dinner yet. 

They ate together, joining their other friends in the hall. Tony came too, and all six of them sat and chatted and ate for hours. They asked Steve how his training was going, and he proudly recounted his endeavors against Natasha, not bothered at all to include how many times she had beaten him in their practice rounds. He praised Tony for the lightness of his handiwork, for the smooth design of the shield and how well the straps fit on his arm. Tony leaned back in his chair, nodding and pleased with himself, but in the end accepting the accolades with a gracious thank-you. 

Everyone slowly filtered off to bed, bidding each other goodnight. Natasha promised to train more with Steve tomorrow, and Clint praised his improvements. Steve glowed with pride. Tony gave him a warm pat on the back as he passed, and Bruce squeezed his shoulder. 

They didn’t need the advisors. Just the six of them would suffice. Thor clasped the back of Steve’s neck to lead the weary man off to bed. Steve looked totally worn out, but glowing softly with happiness. He barely got his boots and jacket off before collapsing into bed. The second his cheek met pillow, he was asleep. 

He looked so beautiful sprawled on the sheets, moonlight kissing his face. Thor worked him carefully out of his shirt, sliding a new one over top. The scars on his back looked the same as they always did, bumpy and angry, but a symbol of strength. A symbol of all the things Steve was stronger than. Steve was stronger than all the evil and hurt in the world, Thor was certain of it. _But it won’t stop me from trying to protect you from it._

“What have you done to me...” Thor sighed, desperate to speak and finally able to now that no-one was listening. He wrapped the blankets around Steve’s body, brushing hair off his slightly-warm cheeks. “You will be the end of me.” If only his mother were still alive to advise him. As it was, this was best kept to himself, his own little secret. He could cope with it, smash it down until it couldn’t bother him anymore. It would be hard, but he could do it. 

Hardest of all, though, was that regardless of how tight the pain in his chest became, this feeling was the most beautiful thing he had ever felt. It was warmer than a thousand suns, heating his heart from its very core. Everything would be okay as long as he could have Steve beside him. _And if I can’t...?_

\-- 

Thor left Steve sleeping, digging out some warmer coats and leaving them in the other man’s room. He wanted to stay and just watch his friend’s relaxed face, but he couldn’t. He had to get some rest for himself, too. 

A week passed. Steve went down for training in the mornings, while Thor went up to his maps. Bruce joined him there, where they would talk and wait for the others to join them. It was the six of them now, giving everything they could. Tony and Steve told what they knew from their time spent as HYDRA prisoners. Steve always had wise points to make when they discussed strategy, quickly gaining the courage to give his insight in front of his more-experiences colleagues. And they listened, because those insights were always valuable in some way. 

Despite Thor’s efforts, the fight was becoming harder and harder. Steve bidding him goodbye until later as they parted ways that morning had left him trembling. So much so that he had to lean on the map table and clutch it tightly to hide it. 

Bruce noticed, though Thor suspected that he and the others had noticed a long time ago. Maybe even before the king himself had, now that he thought about it. “Thor... something’s up,” the doctor pointed out, concerned. “Something’s been up for days now. What’s going on?” 

The avenue had been opened for him to speak, and as much as he trusted his friend, he still struggled to even form a reply, let alone get it out of his mouth. The words were getting stuck again. He gripped the table harder and stared at a rook, as if he could shrink and hide inside it until the problem simply went away. His chest felt tight, for some reason. It wasn’t something cry about. “It’s...” he choked, shaking his head with embarrassment. Bruce was going to think he was some kind of fool once he could get an explanation out. It was certainly too late to brush it off now that this conversation had started. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Bruce touched his shoulder, speaking quietly. 

Thor shook his head again and leaned forward, resting his face in his hands. “It’s stupid,” he mumbled. 

It must have taken Bruce a minute to put together what he’d said, because the doctor paused before replying in a kind voice. “If it’s making you feel like this, then it can’t be stupid, Thor. If you don’t tell me I’ll have to guess.” 

Thor swallowed roughly and rubbed his eyes with his palms, swiping away a few gathering tears and straightening shamefully. He grabbed the table and rocked against it, rubbing the wood with his thumbs. “It is inconsequential,” he whispered. “A matter which has no place here amidst a war. Not for me, at least.” 

“And so you think ignoring how you feel is the answer?” Bruce calmly replied. “If you’re worried about being too distracted to lead, then your reasoning still doesn’t make sense. You’re allowed to feel, Thor, and even if you don’t think you are, then forcing down whatever’s bothering you is just going to cause bigger problems down the road.” 

The doctor was right, of course. So reasonable, logical. Thor wished he could ignore emotion and think more like that. His body was already responding to the invitation, letting down its walls without his command. The tears were starting to dribble free, hesitant but gaining in confidence. He opened his mouth, staring blankly ahead as the tears blocked his vision, but still no words would come out. 

“What are you afraid of?” Bruce asked. 

Rejection, mockery. Or, what if he was caught up in lust instead, and he hurt somebody? “Doing the wrong thing,” he whispered. “Causing pain, being hurt.” Mostly causing pain. It would hurt far more to know he’d hurt somebody else than to be the one who got hurt. He’d _vowed_ to protect Steve, but what if in the midst of all this he caused his friend harm? 

“Pretty reasonable things to be afraid of,” Bruce agreed. “But do you really think Steve will turn you down?” 

_Ah_. “So you knew.” An embarrassed smile pulled at his lips. 

“Known for a few weeks now,” Bruce admitted. “Natasha put two and two together before I did, but it’s been obvious for a while now that you’re head-over-heels for him.” 

Thor could only nod shakily, looking away as heat burned its way up his back and around his face. 

“So tell him.” 

“It’s not that simple,” Thor shook his head with frustration. “I’m a _king,_ and what if he thinks I see him as a prize? Something I am entitled to? What if-” 

“Thor.” Bruce stopped him in his tracks. “Thor, he won’t think that. I know he won’t see it that way.” 

Thor swallowed, wiping at his eyes. Bruce was right, that Steve wouldn’t think the king was trying to claim him as a trophy. “What if... what if he doesn’t feel the same way?” he asked in a hushed voice. 

Bruce sighed and shook his head. “I’m not an expert on these things, but I think I can say that he likes you a lot.” 

“Really?” Thor looked up, and Bruce chuckled. 

“Yes, Thor. Really. You just have to talk to him, okay?” 

_I just have to talk to him._

That easy. He just had to open his mouth, and talk. The instant Steve walked in with the others, his shield on his back, one hand reaching up to push back his sweaty hair, all the words evaporated. 

He had to do it. He had to say something, or it would burn him up from the inside. It helped that the others were focused on the map, but even as he found his voice he still couldn’t prepare his confession for later, when they were alone. Even as the meeting ended and plans were set, he couldn’t. All through the evening, he kept silent, the urge to confess fighting against the barrier of inability, all while Steve sat beside him on the bed sketching Natasha in various battle stances and moves. 

The chance passed him by. Steve was asleep in his own room now, and Thor sprawled on the bed in his, staring at the moon. This was going to be a lot harder than he’d anticipated. 

\-- 

He spent the night thinking, until his brain was too tired and shut off. When he awoke, he still hadn’t managed to come up with anything to say. 

It didn’t matter anyway, because Steve wasn’t at training. He wasn’t at breakfast, and he wasn’t with Tony. He was still in bed, sleeping soundly when Thor finally checked his room. The king walked over, glancing out the window at the late-morning sun. He opened the curtains a bit wider and knelt by the bedside. “Steve,” he murmured. “Steve, it’s late. You’ll miss training.” 

Steve stirred and mumbled into the pillow, drawing the blankets tighter around himself. “M’comin,” he slurred. “Gimme a sec...” He groaned and heaved a sigh, eyelids fluttering before falling still again, his breathing evening back out. 

Thor frowned and brushed some hair from his forehead. The skin was warm, Steve’s breaths rasping through dry lips and his face a bit paler than usual. All thoughts of his dilemma were banished to a vault somewhere in his mind as he straightened and ran through the castle to find Bruce. 

The doctor was sat at his desk studying a book when Thor burst in. He looked up and took off his glasses. “What’s wrong?” he was already standing up. 

“Steve is unwell,” Thor relayed worriedly. “He’s got a fever.” 

“I’m coming,” Bruce nodded, snagging a couple of things off his shelves and jogging behind. 

_Steve’s sick. The cold must have gotten to him... and he’s been working very hard. I shouldn’t have brought him outside so much in the evening._ Bruce had said that Steve might not survive if he got sick, that his system had been weakened from what HYDRA had done to him. _I should have stopped him from training so much. I should have taken better care of him-_

“Thor.” They were already back at Steve’s room, Bruce already walking away from the bed. “Thor, he’s alright. It’s just a mild fever. I’ll make him something for it, but with enough rest he should be fine in a couple of days.” 

Thor exhaled, his knees wobbling a little as he walked over to the bed and stroked Steve’s forelock. The skin beneath was warm, but not dangerously so. Steve mumbled in protest and reached up to bat the hand away. “M’fine, Buck. Stop fussin’. Jus’tired....” 

“Let him rest,” Bruce suggested quietly. 

“I’m not leaving him.” 

“He’ll be fine. Let him sleep,” Bruce countered firmly. “You’ve got stuff to do. I’ll stay with him.” 

Bruce was right: he had royal duties to attend to. Steve would be fine without him for a few hours. Thor held Steve’s bangs out of the way and planted a firm kiss into his forehead. “Sleep well,” he whispered, tucking the blankets in place and squeezing his friend’s shoulders. Steve exhaled something, smiling faintly. He _really_ didn’t want to leave, but he had responsibilities to take care of first. Bruce would keep watch. The doctor was already getting settled in a chair. 

“Ask someone to bring some water,” Bruce asked. “Hot and cold. And some washcloths.” 

Thor nodded, committing the list to memory and relaying it to the first servant the encountered. She nodded and rushed off to find the items, and he carried on to the training grounds where Natasha was waiting patiently. 

Her expression twisted with the worry as soon as she saw it was just him. “Where’s Steve?” she asked. 

“He’s taken ill,” Thor replied. “Bruce says it isn’t serious, but he’ll be resting for a few days.” 

“Is he alright?” 

“Yes, he is,” the king nodded. _Please let him be alright. I need him to be alright._ He needed to have faith in Bruce expertise and Steve’s own strength. He sighed. “I cannot help but be worried. I’m sure he’ll be fine.” 

“Maybe I was too hard on him...” Natasha sighed back, picking up the training swords she’d brought. “Hard to tell sometimes... he doesn’t say when he needs a break. Maybe I should have forced him to take one.” 

Thor smiled a little at that, walking with her across the training grounds. True: Steve did just keep going, and going. And if he’d spent so much of his life battling health problems, it was understandable that he would push through whatever he could. _That’s our duty: to protect him from pushing through too hard and not resting when he needs it._ Steve wouldn’t be Steve if he weren’t impossibly stubborn. Thor smiled to himself, joining up with Clint and watching as training wrapped up. 

“Bruce said he talked to you yesterday,” Natasha said quietly. “So... you tell him yet?” 

Thor blushed faintly and stuck his hands in his pockets, rubbing a tuft of grass with his toe. He shook his head. “I could not find the words,” he admitted in a whisper. 

“If you keep going like you are, you won’t have to,” she nudged his arm teasingly, softness lingering underneath. “You’re not exactly subtle. Were you _trying_ to hide it?” 

“I...” Thor blushed a little deeper and glanced up. None of the soldiers were paying him any attention, all focused on the last routine. He looked back at his boots. “Maybe...” 

“Well this is a side of you I wondered if I’d ever see,” she was smiling at him. Natasha squeezed his arm. “If you ask me... I think he’s pretty smitten himself.” 

“That’s what Bruce said,” Thor nodded, nudging a weed back and forth. 

“To be perfectly honest I sort of thought the two of you had already had _some_ kind of confession,” she smirked at him, one eyebrow raised. “You can’t keep your hands to yourselves when you’re together.” 

Caught red-handed. Thor rocked on his heels, shifting his shoulders inside his jacket. 

Natasha laughed, amused and sympathetic. “I bet Bruce didn’t offer any help though, did he.” Thor shook his head. “Cruel. How about we help you set something up? When he’s better. That’ll give us a few days to come up with something. You leave it to us, alright?” 

He desperately needed the help, he knew that. This whole situation was leaving him hopelessly brain-dead and heart-sick. Time wasn’t what he needed to come up with the perfect thing to say, and he didn’t _want_ to wait. It hurt too badly. It hurt him knowing that if this went right, and Steve felt the same, then these feelings would be amplified a thousand-fold. And if he felt amazing now? He couldn’t possibly imagine how he would feel after. 

His friends were going to help him. It felt a little better knowing they knew, and that they were on his side. Clint and Natasha didn’t speak a word of it as they followed him up for the meeting, and he didn’t bring it up, shifting his brain over to focus on the task at-hand. 

Tony arrived shortly after, commenting on the absence of their two colleagues. Upon hearing that Steve was unwell, he expressed his concern. Then everyone got to work, and it was time to think only of business. 

To Thor’s relief, there wasn’t much to talk about today. The scouts were due back in a few days, so until then they were stuck speculating. As soon as the meeting ended, he was walking as fast as he could without being obvious, breaking into a jog in the hallway. The worry clenching his sternum was immediately eased the second he nudged open Steve’s door and saw his friend sitting in a chair by the window, huddled in a blanket, a cold cloth draped around his neck, a mug of hot tea on the windowsill beside him, and his sketchbook in-hand. Bruce must have stepped out for a moment. 

Steve turned to look up. “Hey,” he rasped, wiping his nose on his hand. “Sorry I missed the meeting.” 

“Not at all,” Thor shut the door and walked over, closely inspecting his friend. He was pale and his eyes were a little shiny with fever. “How are you feeling?” 

“Stuffy,” Steve rubbed his nose again and set down his book, picking up his tea and holding it under his nose with both hands. “And tired. Got a headache to end all headaches.” He winced and took a sip of tea, which smelled of herbs and lemon. 

“Here,” Thor quickly reached forward, wrapping one hand around Steve’s forehead and gently squeezing his temples. With the other, he probed down Steve’s spine, pushing between the vertebrae, mindful of his strength. 

Steve shuddered and loosened. “Oh, god. That feels good.” 

“Pressure points,” Thor smiled. “My mother used to do this for me when I was unwell.” He rubbed around the bumps of Steve’s back, keeping above the scarring. The muscles were knotted tight. 

“Your mom was magic,” Steve murmured, setting down his tea and going limp in Thor’s grip. He moaned with pleasure as Thor rubbed his shoulders and base of his neck with strong fingers, fighting for the muscles to submit. “ _You’re_ magic.” 

“I suppose it runs in the family,” Thor smiled, squeezing Steve’s head and massaging ruthlessly under the cold cloth. He could keep this up for a long time, as long as Steve needed. His hands wouldn’t get sore, not for hours. It was just the two of them, alone. Now would be a good time. _Not now. When he’s better. He needs rest, not to be given difficult questions to answer._

The door swung open. “Oh, Thor, you’re back,” Bruce stepped in, a tray in his hand. “I was just bringing Steve a late lunch. I can get something for you too, if you like.” 

“No, thank you,” Thor replied. “I’ll get something a bit later.” 

Bruce stared for a moment at the pair, but said nothing, nodding and depositing the meal on the table. He left as soon as he’d come. 

Thor looked down at Steve. “Well, would you like to eat?” 

“Not that hungry,” his friend admitted. 

“You should eat something,” Thor coaxed. “Come on. Just a little, and I’ll rub you some more. As much as you want.” He pulled back his hands, holding his service hostage. 

Steve reluctantly slipped off the chair and held onto the blanket tightly with one hand, taking his tea with the other. Thor guided him to the table, but he was moving fine on his own, if not a bit heavy-footed. The king pulled out a chair and Steve sat, sipping his tea and rubbed his forehead with a wince. Thor sat beside him and nudged the bowl of soup a bit closer. 

“I’m alright,” Steve muttered, picking up his spoon. “Had worse. Got sick a lot as a kid. Cold snap got me, that’s all.” 

“I don’t mean to fuss,” Thor admitted bashfully. “I apologize.” 

Steve smiled a little, stirring his soup. “It’s alright. Don’t mind so much... I just don’t want it to last for too long.” 

“With enough rest I’m certain it won’t. Bruce thinks so as well,” Thor reassured. 

Steve nudged a piece of chicken around the broth. “You won’t kick me out of the army for getting sick, will you?” 

“Of course not,” Thor chuckled. “All warriors fall ill sometimes.” 

“Apart from you,” Steve smiled, eating a mouthful and swallowing. His smile saddened. “Might happen a lot.” 

“Then we will deal with it as it comes,” Thor agreed. “It is no more burdensome than those soldiers with partners and families and other responsibilities. Warriors return from battle wounded often enough, and they require some time to recover. This is no different.” 

“Yeah, but...” Steve swallowed some more soup, clenching the blanket tightly. “It’s not the same...” 

“Some are born with indecision,” Thor replied easily, standing up and drawing the cloth off of Steve’s neck. He walked it to the basin of cold water by the bed and wet it. “Some struggle with motivation, others with rage. Some carry aches with them all their life. But no man is without affliction.” 

“Even you?” Steve looked up at him with questions in his eyes, perhaps even desperation, as the king wrapped the cloth back around his neck and clasped it with a steadying hand. 

“Even me,” Thor replied gently, sitting down again. “I have many afflictions. I battle every day to know what is right. I fight not to run off into battle alone instead of trusting my friends to help and support me. I fear irrationally for things I have no control over, and I fight not to carry the blame for any death HYDRA has caused. Sometimes I struggle even to get out of bed with a sadness that comes from nowhere. Other times I dream of horrible things, or struggle to get to sleep at all.” 

The gift didn’t fix afflictions of the mind, or the heart. Just of the body. That was all it was, an acknowledgement of internal power, and a blessing of physical power to match. It mirrored the soul in the body, so that its intentions could be carried out. It had simply given Thor the power to do what his heart called him to. It hadn’t taken any of his mental battles away. If anything, it had made harder battles out of them, exacerbated them. 

Steve looked away. “Sorry, that was a rude question,” he admitted quietly into his bowl, picking it up to sip at the broth. 

“Not at all,” Thor disagreed cheerfully. “Come on, eat. Then more rest. I will stay with you. Unless of course you would rather be alone...” Maybe Steve would prefer to recover in private – plus Thor wasn’t sure he could stop himself from fussing at least a little. 

“No, no it’s alright,” Steve quickly swallowed and put down his bowl, shaking his head and looking over. “I’d uh... You don’t... have anywhere you need to be?” 

“Nowhere more than here,” Thor smiled with pleasure. 

Steve gave him a smile in return and picked up his soup, his lips curving with the rim of the bowl and a deeper blush washing away the pallor. Maybe his friends were right – did Steve really feel the same way? Was it brash and cocky to assume that he did? Maybe Steve only saw him as a good friend, a brother. Thor bit his lip, terror clogging his lungs. 

Fighting the frost giants hadn’t scared him. Fighting a whole hoard of HYDRA soldiers hadn’t scared him. Waking up to find one of his advisors trying to murder him hadn’t scared him. But Steve did. The way Steve gripped the bowl with his artist’s hands did terrifying things to his heart. Steve’s soft lips and heavy eyelashes and hazy eyes... 

“This is really good,” Steve mumbled into the bowl, slurping another mouthful. He was getting through it, past the halfway mark. There was a lot of meat and vegetables in it, the broth dark with meat juices and seasonings. Steve was clearly well enough to eat properly, which was another sign that Thor had been completely overworked about the whole thing. 

“Good,” he watched. This would pass, Steve would join them for planning and training again, and Thor could say how he felt. The very thought of it nearly sent him into cardiac arrest, but he stilled himself and focused on now, on guiding Steve back to bed now that the soup was gone. He untangled the blanket and held up the once still in place on the bed so that Steve could crawl under. Then he tucked his friend in and wet another cloth, pushing it into his forehead. 

“Thanks,” Steve muttered, his eyes already falling shut. “Just gotta sleep it off. Be fine...” 

“Rest,” Thor ordered, taking the chair for himself. “Get better.” 

“Yeah yeah, Highness,” Steve still had the energy to mumble off one last jab as he got curled up under the sheets and fell asleep. 

\-- 

Steve _did_ get better, after a couple days spent mostly in bed, and sometimes painting when he felt up for it, but overall taking it easy. He drank his medicine when it was given, ate what was put in front of him, and did as he was told with only a little protest. Thor stayed with him as much as he could, and when meetings pulled him away, Bruce took his place. The others came to visit, gathering in Steve’s room for lunches and talking as they always did. The normalcy made Steve feel better, even if he was quiet throughout most of it and wrapped in his blanket, rested against Thor’s side while he ate. 

He didn’t shy away from Thor’s ministrations at all, letting the king clean the sweat off his face and neck, or help him change into a new shirt. He’d grumbled a few times, but Thor had just clamped a hand around his neck and rubbed it until his friend melted under his grip. 

Finally, the haze cleared up, and Steve was back on his feet, his shield on his back, ready to join in with his usual duties the second Bruce cleared him. He strode right into the planning room and his friends greeted him with welcoming smiles. 

That evening, the scouts started to return, bearing information on the HYDRA camps they’d surveyed. The last group to arrive was disheveled and breathless, dismounting weary horses. 

“HYDRA comes from the North-East,” the leader panted, staggering over to the map as Thor led him. The soldier pointed. “A squadron bears down on the city as we speak. It’s not large enough to take the city, but it is large enough to overpower the guards station on that side of the wall and get in.” 

The general public were in danger. Thor straightened and locked eyes with his advisors. “Gather as many men as we can spare,” he ordered. “We ride in two hours to meet them.” 

Bruce ran off to the infirmary to prepare some supplies, while Natasha and Clint went to put together a retaliatory squadron and have the horses saddled. Tony hung back. “What about me?” he asked. 

“If you wish to fight, then fight,” Thor nodded. “We would be proud to have you join our ranks. Can you wield a blade?” 

“No self-respecting blacksmith doesn’t give his own work a swing or two,” Tony agreed. “I can hold my own.” 

“Then go,” Thor pointed. Tony nodded and raced to join the others. 

“And me?” Steve was still there, his eyes dark but his stance apprehensive. 

Thor nodded. “You are part of this army,” he agreed. _I doubt I could stop you from coming if you wanted to._ “I would be proud to fight with you once again.” 

Steve grinned at that. “Let’s go, then.” 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *warning* sexy times ensue. And it's a little bit more detailed than the last time I wrote this sort of thing. It's not super detailed (cus I don't know wtf I'm doing), but it does happen. That's about the best way I can describe it.
> 
> Enjoy B) I look forward as always to your thoughts.

All this training had strengthened his body like he’d never thought possible. Not a lot, but definitely a noticeable amount. Steve jogged along with his friends, preparing himself for what all this  training had been for.

Natasha appeared at his side with a knife in her hand. She knelt and wrapped the straps around his thigh. “Just in case,” she explained, securing the weapon to his belt. “You might need it.”

He nodded his thanks, pulling on his bracers and tightened his shield straps around his shoulders.

Thor approached next, with a scarf and a smile. He loosened the breast plate and wrapped the scarf neatly around Steve’s neck, tucking the ends under the armor before tightening it back in place. The king had already put on his own armor, his red cloak cascading over his shoulders and his hair tied back. His tongue swiped out to lick his lips, and he bit the lower one as he clasped Steve by the shoulders and looked him up and down. “Ready?” he asked.

Steve nodded firmly, pushing out his jaw.

“Then let’s go,” Thor nodded back, and they all left for the stables where the horses and other soldiers were waiting.

Steve immediately spotted the huge stallion he’d ridden before, and gave himself a bit of a run-up, jumping as high as he could and gripping the saddle. He pulled himself into it with a wince, straining his arms – but he got there, settling and turning the horse around to face the others as he backed out of the stables. Thor was shortly behind, a noble sight on horseback, with his flowing cape, square shoulders, and steely stare. He trotted past and took the lead, glancing back at the others.

“Leave no man standing,” he ordered. “We ride until we meet them, and we kill every single HYDRA soldier.”

A ripple of agreement spread through the group. Tony was nodding darkly, one of his own swords strapped to his waist. Natasha was nearby, elegant as always, an imposing figure on her horse. Clint  was beside her, armed with his bow and a sword. Together with the handful of other soldiers, the squadron would fall. With a shout, Thor spun his horse around and took off into the city. The other followed. Steve leaned forward and clutched the saddle tightly as his horse easily kept pace with the group, its huge body pulsing with muscle.  _ This _ was the way to travel.

People moved out of the streets to let them pass, watching with wide eyes as their king thundered by, fury in his shoulders.

In no time, they were through the North-East gates and bursting into the forest, dirt flying up and the sounds of hoofbeats slightly muted. Just ahead, Thor’s horse jumped over a fallen tree, and Steve prepared himself to make the jump too. He lifted off the saddle a little, feeling his horse bunch its muscles in preparation. It didn’t slow, didn’t hesitate – it just leapt over effortlessly, its strong legs clearing the tree without any effort at all. It landed, and Steve grunted a little as he bounced in the saddle, jarring his spine. That would take a bit of practice. And by the looks of things, he might get that practice.

He was a soldier now, just like all the men following along behind. A soldier with his own limitations, but the tools to work with them. Thor had given him that, the chance to stand for the things he believed in.

What he believed in was destroying all trace of HYDRA and their evil, and there they were up ahead, a group of enemy soldiers on horseback, dressed for battle. Steve let go of the reins so he could slide the shield off his back and tightened the straps to his arm. On either side of him, Clint and Natasha broke off, circling around the pack. Natasha was already lifting out of the saddle, and Clint was notching an arrow.

The two groups met head-on, with Thor at the head of it. He kicked his feet free of the stirrups and hurled himself out of the saddle at another rider, taking him and his horse to the ground with the force of it. The other horses scattered in the chaos, their riders drawing their weapons. The Asgardian soldiers met them in a wave, and Thor rolled to his feet, delivering a fatal kick to the man he’d felled. He practically picked up the horse and set it on its feet, turning it to face the castle and giving it a nudge. The creature tossed its head and took off, and Thor stood in the middle of the enemies on horseback, bare hands raised. In a second, he’d picked his next target, ducking under a swinging blade and wrapping his arm around the horse’s neck, taking the animal to the ground with a yell. The rider fell out of the saddle, leg crushed by the falling beast, and Thor killed him too with a single punch, once again sending the horse back in Asgard’s direction.

Natasha appeared from the treetops, a knife in her hand. She dropped out of the branches onto the shoulders of an unsuspecting enemy, wrapping her legs around his throat and squeezing. He started to tip in the saddle, his neck broken, and she slithered off him, jumping gracefully to the man next to her and slashing his saddle straps. They both rolled off, and she wrapped him up in her legs, killing him with one swift stab. Then she was up again, weaving in between stomping hooves and flailing blades, cutting the enemy down from their horses. Between her and Thor, they were trapping HYDRA right here.

Steve slid out of the saddle and dropped into the dirt, raising his shield to protect himself as a HYDRA soldier ran at him, a sword in-hand. The sword bounced off, and the shield protected Steve from the vibrations of impact. He straightened while the soldier’s body was exposed, jamming the edge of the shield into his chest. It was strong enough to crack ribs through the armor. The soldier staggered back a step in surprise, and Steve kicked him in the stomach, moving on rapid instinct. He swung the shield around as hard as he could, clocking the enemy in the head hard enough to drop him, his skull cracked. Where his own strength failed, the shield itself made up for it, strong and light and terribly destructive.

Arrows were whizzing around now, some from the enemy archers trying to make a perimeter around the fight, and others from Clint who was hidden somewhere in the foliage above. Steve ducked under the protection of his shield and ran at one of the archers still on horseback. The arrows bounced harmless off, and he held the shield over his head as he came right up to the horse and drew his knife. It was sharp enough to cut through the girth strap of the saddle in two clumsy cuts, and by the time the archer had drawn another weapon to try and smack him with, it was too late – he was tipping off his horse and landing with a thud in the dirt. Steve smacked the horse’s flank and it took off, leaving nothing between him and enemy. The soldier rose to his feet, turning an arrow in his hand and dropping his bow. Steve raised his shield, waiting for the attack, unyielding.

The enemy attacked first with an angry cry, stabbing out with the arrow. Steve whipped up his shield to block, catching the man’s wrist with a crack, the arrow head peeking over top. The man yelped and dropped the arrow, and Steve smacked his broken arm aside with the shield, punching him squarely in the face. It wasn’t enough to knock him out, but the second strike with the shield was.

At the sound of crunching boots, Steve whirled around, raising his shield just in time to block a sword. The weapon bounced off, so he swung out his arm. His attacker was already swinging forward with his other hand, a knife in his grip. With wide-eyes, Steve raised his free arm to block, their forearms colliding. The other man was much stronger, unbalancing his smaller opponent and sweeping for his legs. Steve went down with a grunt and rolled, tucking his entire body behind his shield.

The soldier slammed a powerful sword blow into the disk, and another, and another. Steve grit his teeth and untangled his legs, pushing them under him.  _ Sometimes you just have to be persistent.  _ You didn’t have to be the most skilled fighter on the field to win. Steve gripped his shield and braced his weight against it, pushing off his feet and fighting against the onslaught of blows. With a push, the next strike bounced off a little harder, leaving an opening to put his feet under him and rush forward. He rammed his whole body behind the shield and into the soldier’s stomach, knocking him back. With a final swing, the man fell.

Steve straightened, his lungs aching and his joints sore from taking so much impact, but adrenaline keeping him going. The HYDRA soldiers were rallying on one side of the battle, all the archers clustering together to preparing one focused attack, flanked by swordsmen to protect them from the Asgardian warriors coming for them. It was too late: arrows were already being loaded and aimed. And who was the biggest threat on the battlefield right now? Steve knew where those arrows would fly before the strings were pulled back, already running.

Thor was close. He hadn’t even drawn his sword yet, but then, he didn’t really need to in these close quarters. Not yet, at least. He saw Steve coming, and Steve didn’t bother to yell. He just ran, jumping over a body and skirting around two battling soldiers. Thor opened his mouth, but he didn’t get the chance to speak before Steve was grabbing him by the collar of his armor and yanking him down. By the time the king noticed, the arrows were already sailing for them. Steve lifted his shield, ducking behind it and holding Thor down behind it with him.

The arrows bounced harmlessly off, and Steve let go, peering over at the archers. He knew what he had to do, and he was the only one here with the tool to do it. He slipped the shield off his arm and threw it as hard as he could, just like he and Natasha had practiced. The spin was a bit wobbly, but the disk flew true and scattered the archers. The shield landed by the man it had struck.

Thor straightened, squeezing Steve’s shoulder as he moved past and broke into a run. Steve had never seen the king  _ run _ before, and the speed at which he tore up the ground did something very distracting to his body. Once he found himself, he followed. Thor kicked his shield into his hand and grabbed the edge, swinging it around and cracking a man in the neck. He was dead in a second. The cluster of archers gathered, the ones on the edges recovering and crouching in preparation to shoot arrows through the gaps of the fight.

Thor left them no gaps. “Catch!” he yelled, flicking his arm and rolling the shield across the dirt. It bounced and spun straight, and Steve scooped it up as he ran, sliding his arm into the straps. He blocked an arrow that flew his way, batting it aside and racing all the way up to the archer. Another solid swing of his shield took him down, and he found himself pressed up against Thor. The king had drawn his sword now, poised for battle.

Steve dealt with the archers. He and Thor circled back-to-back, changing sides as the enemy attacked. When the arrows came, Thor ducked behind the shield, and when a soldier rushed forward with a sword, it was Steve’s turn to duck while Thor swept over him and took care of it.

They killed every last archer, and every last enemy soldier. When the last one fell, the Asgardians stood over the carnage, heaving. Natasha brushed herself off and sheathed her knife. Clint dropped out of the treetops, shouldering his bow. Everybody was scraped and bruised, but when Steve looked around, as he noticed the others doing too, there was no man missing. One soldier had taken an arrow in the shoulder, another in the leg, but everyone was alright. Everyone would live.

“Is everyone alright?” Thor gripped Steve’s shoulder, sheathing his sword and giving everyone a closer examination. “Steve?” The king’s eyes landed  and lingered on him.

“Fine,” Steve panted. “I’m fine.” He gave himself a look-over, pleased to find he hadn’t been hurt and not noticed while lost in the thick of battle.

Thor visibly relaxed with relief, but he was still vibrating, a hunger in his eyes as he watched Steve secure the shield on his back.

They needed to get back as soon as possible. He  _ needed _ to get back. Maybe Thor was thinking the same thing so hard that Steve was feeding off it, but either way they both seemed to be in-line with each other. That, or adrenaline was still leaving them a bit shaky. Steve jogged over to his horse and hauled himself into the saddle, anxiously waiting for the others to join him. Soldiers helped their injured friends mount, and Thor was taking the lead. He really looked like he wanted to rush back, and frankly so did Steve. He wasn’t sure why. He wasn’t sure why he needed to grip the saddle so tightly as they cantered back toward the castle. He didn’t know why this need was rising up the back of his throat.

He didn’t know what it was until they were back, dismounting and letting the horses be led away. Until Thor was walking over to help him undo the buckles of his armor. He was disheveled, strands of hair falling loose around his face, his hands covered in dirt and blood and his skin shimmering with sweat. His muscles slid hard under his skin as he moved his bare arms, eyes practically glowing.

Steve  _ needed _ them to be alone. This feeling didn’t surprise him – it was not new in its nature, but it  _ was _ new in its intensity.

The second everything was taken care of, Thor was wrapping a hand around his bicep and leading him off. Steve followed, loosening his shield straps and sliding them off his shoulders the second they were inside Thor’s room. He dropped the disk on the floor with a clatter and whirled, grabbing a handful of Thor’s shirt and yanking the king toward him, pulsing with the still-fading rush of battle. That pulse was immediately reinvigorated as he drew them together and kissed Thor, hard.

Whatever had overcome him, there was no time to contemplate it, no time to doubt what the  _ hell _ he was doing – Thor was already wrapping his hands behind his head and holding them together, kissing back with a long-suppressed ferocity. Emotions were gushing out. Thor was shaking, backing up toward the bed and nearly tripping over himself in his desperation. His hands were everywhere, slipping under Steve’s shirt, pushing up his chest. They fell on the blankets, Steve on top, and Thor wrestling them both farther up onto the mattress. They fought each other’s shirts off as fast as they could, Steve’s ripping a bit as Thor pulled it off a bit too frantically.

Steve couldn’t stop himself, and he didn’t try – he grabbed a handful of muscle, squeezing Thor’s pec. Thor arched his back, loosening his boots with one hand while the other raked through Steve’s hair possessively. He kicked off his boots and went for Steve’s, and together they got those off too.

This was a long-time coming. It didn’t even feel real. He couldn’t have imagined it. Steve hadn’t ever kissed anyone before, and definitely not like the way Thor was. Thor was all over him, flipping him onto his back and looming over top, kissing him roughly into the pillows, sucking on his lips and across his cheek to his ear. Kissing down his throat with reverence, his beard tickling all the way down.

Thor was panting, like he’d been drowning for an age. He lifted up, one hand holding him up, the other stroking up Steve’s stomach. His eyes were relieved, admiring Steve’s naked torso in a way that seemed unfathomable, especially by someone as physically flawless as the king himself. Thor licked his lips, stopping himself and planting a hand in the center of Steve’s chest. “Is this alright?” he heaved, and the look in his eyes suggested he didn’t entirely believe this was happening either.

“This?” Steve strained back, his  whole body quivering with exertion and need. He didn’t  _ know  _ what was happening, only that he wanted Thor’s hands on him.  _ How did I miss this? How did I miss it? Why now? Why not sooner?  _

Fear was vibrating Thor’s whole body as he nodded. 

Steve didn’t want him to be afraid. There was nothing to be afraid of. “Yes,” he whispered. It was more than alright. They’d spent far too long so close, yet not close enough, straining toward intimacy but shying away. Giving kisses that were tender, but too friendly. They'd spent long enough blind and ignorant.

Thor didn’t care at all that Steve was sweaty from the fight, that he was covered in dirt, that his ribs stuck out and his shoulders were frail. He was gentle, cradling Steve’s head off the pillows and reuniting their lips, tongue plunging inside, desperate to explore any inch that it could. Steve let him, kissing faintly back but resigning control. Thor wouldn’t hurt him. Thor knew what he was doing, frantic but sure of his own desire, his body speaking against Steve’s, and listening in return. They’d spent enough time cuddled up together to communicate this way, and it came naturally and easily.

“You’re so beautiful,” Thor whispered between kisses, barely able to get the words out before he was back in Steve’s mouth, working his way down his neck again. “So beautiful.” His beard tickled, and Steve shuddered. “A warrior to your very soul.”

Surely not.  Surely he wasn’t such a thing to be admired. He was weak and small and frail, just a slip of a thing. He was crooked and damaged, had been long before HYDRA had stained him.

Thor’s lips said otherwise. They were working their way down, kissing down his sternum to his stomach, where they stopped. Thor forcibly halted, looking up, reining in his desire so he could get permission. He opened his mouth, but Steve was already nodding. Thor moved with hesitance, sitting up on his knees so he could undo Steve’s pants and pull them off, all while glancing up to make sure it was okay.

It was  _ more  _ than okay.  _ Hurry it up.  _ Steve whimpered with poorly-contained desire, quivering more as Thor kissed below his belly button, stroked his side and grasped his thigh. “Do you want this?” he whispered.

Steve barked out a laugh, lifting his legs out of the way so Thor could struggle out of his own pants. “What does it look like,” he demanded. Oh, he was  _ ready, _ and it showed.

Thor was ready too, and the sight of his readiness widened Steve’s eyes. The king crawled forward, sliding a warm hand up the inside of Steve’s thigh. “Are you certain? Is this what  _ you _ want?”

He’d never, ever done this before. There hadn’t exactly been the opportunity, or the desire. Now it was all here, all at once. But this wasn’t sudden. It had been growing inside him for a while now. Without a shadow of a doubt, he wanted it. “I want it,” he begged.

“Then you shall have it,” Thor crawled across him.

“Just go easy on me,” Steve wrapped his arm around  Thor’s neck and dragged him closer, kissing him roughly. “You’re  _ big. _ "

Thor smirked a little at that, flushed but finding his confidence again. “Since when has  size ever deterred you?” he whispered, reaching down to grab him.

“Fair point-  _ ah, _ ” Steve lifted his hips off the bed, taken by surprise at the sensation of Thor’s hand on him. He lost his grip, his eyes rolling back a little as Thor touched him, always flawlessly balancing strength and gentleness with impeccable control.

“Easy,” Thor murmured, “I have you.”

“Yeah you do,” Steve squirmed, unsure what to do with these new and entirely  pleasant sensations.

“Am I truly your first?” Thor asked, like there was any chance Steve could have found someone willing to give him this, like there was anyone he would  _ trust _ , especially given his list of ailments. The wrong person would rip him apart, maybe even kill him. His heart was already fluttering and his chest squeezing as Thor melted him.

“Yeah,” Steve moaned.

Thor’s eyes flashed at that, flashed with pride and possession. “At ease, soldier. I’ve hardly done anything yet.”

Steve nodded weakly, clawing at handfuls of  bicep as Thor kept grabbing, working him until his mind went blank. That was alright. He could be vulnerable here. Thor would never hurt him. Thor’s other hand was sliding under his waist, lifting his hips off the bed and pulling them into his lap. Steve trembled, wrapping his legs around Thor’s back. He didn’t have the strength to hold himself there, but Thor’s hand grasped him from behind and held him, kissing down his chest. Steve wrapped an arm around Thor’s neck, and king slid into place a little at a time.

There was a lot of Thor to take. The king went slow, always aware, always so careful. It was very slow going, but they got there. The final push pulled a yelp out of Steve’s throat, and Thor clutched him, rubbing his neck, stroking across his scarred back and avoiding the tender places. They clung to each other, as close as two people could get, shivering with their own pleasure and sharing in it.

Thor fell back, and Steve sat on his hips, rocking a little to get comfortable and leaning forward. He couldn’t fold as far as he needed, but Thor propped himself up to meet him, eyes unfocused and his breath raspy as they kissed tiredly. Thor thrust his hips upward, and Steve moaned. Thor lowered again and kissed his forehead, then thrusting up a second time.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore, but he didn’t have to say a word. Thor was already pulling out very gradually, laying him down on the sheets and pressing a steadying hand into his chest. He rubbed up and down Steve’s ribs, stroked his hair and kissed his face so Steve could pant through his lips. He was completely breathless and  body felt like jelly, but Thor was still strong, still in control. It was clear in his eyes that he’d enjoyed it, but it hadn’t done for him what it had done for Steve. Steve was wiped, but Thor looked like he could go for ages.

“Breathe,” Thor whispered into his ear. “Breathe, Steve.”

He breathed, swallowing and recovering slowly. Everything felt warm and tingly from the waist down. He could hardly feel his legs. Never had he been so pleased to ache so badly.

“I’m just going to get some water, alright?” Thor kissed his nose. “I’ll be  right back. Don’t move.”

All he could do was nod and watch Thor crawl off the bed and wrap himself in a robe, walking out of the room and shutting the door behind him. It was only a minute or two before the king was back, setting a bucket of water and some cloths on the bedside table. Thor wet the cloth and wrung it out, wiping the warm water across Steve’s face, cleaning away the sweat and dirt of battle, and the sweat of sex. Steve shivered, but didn’t bother to try and help. Thor was quite content to tend to him anyway, rubbing his arms clean next, then working down his chest and stomach.

“I hope that wasn’t too fast,” Thor finally spoke, cleaning down his thighs. “If that really was your first-”

“Was good,” Steve shook his head.  _ Stop worrying so much. You asked, I said yes. _

“I didn’t hurt you did I...?”

“Hurt a little,” Steve admitted. “Can’t do much about that.” The second he’d caught a look at Thor he’d known it would hurt a bit. But it hadn’t been too bad, and pain wasn’t enough to deter him from doing much of anything. “You went steady. Was good. Promise.” He smiled.

Thor sighed and kissed his knee, cleaning the dirt from between his toes. “Good. You did well.”

“Did I...?” He severely doubted that. Steve had no idea how most people were supposed to hold out with the king of  Asgard buried in them, but he had a feeling his stamina was well below ‘most people’.

“As much as befits a warrior of your caliber,” Thor smiled, dropping the robe and giving himself a quick wipe-down before discarding the cloth and pulling the blankets from under Steve. He crawled under too and shuffled close, pulling Steve’s head around and stroking his cheek. “You are the brightest star in a dark sky,” he whispered, drawing Steve’s head around to kiss his lips, one hand rubbing slowly up and down his back. “You are beautiful.”

“Even with this?” Steve whispered as Thor’s fingers traced around his scars.

“Your body is  _ beautiful _ ,” Thor agreed, turning a bit to face him better. “But it pales in comparison to the man inside. And those scars gave you power where HYDRA failed to take it away. They may have done damage to the body, but you emerged stronger than ever.” Thor’s finger pushed into his chest, right over his heart.

“I only got free because you helped me,” Steve replied. “You helped me climb out, and you gave me the chance to be strong.”  _ You gave me the chance to fight with you when you gave me that shield. You, and Natasha for training me, and everyone else for giving me a place with them. _

“Those things aren’t what give you value,” Thor shook his head. “But I am proud to have helped. All of me is yours.”

“I think we already established that,” Steve smirked a little, wrapping his arm around Thor’s chest and pulling his body across it. He was weary and spent, but Thor’s arm wrapped around his waist and helped him, holding him close.

“I suppose we did,” Thor chuckled, squeezing him and kissing his hair. “Did you enjoy it?”

Steve nodded and looked up. “What about you? You hardly got anything -”

“Don’t concern yourself with that,” Thor hushed. “If that is what you can handle, then so be it. It is no detriment to me. It felt good, and I wanted to make  _ you _ feel good.”

“But-”

“We can work up to it,” the king shook his head. “Enough. It was my pleasure.”

That didn’t seem fair, but Thor seemed genuinely pleased to have done this, to have given Steve this gift. The best he could do now was accept it gracefully. He nestled a bit closer and shut his eyes, completely spent in every way, but content and warm and released. Everything that had been building for weeks had come to its head right here, and though the tension had passed, the thrill was still very much there.

HYDRA would never take everything from him.

\--

Steve was incredibly stiff when he awoke. He groaned and started to move off Thor’s chest, blinking his eyes clear. The arm still wrapped around his waist squeezed gently, a hand threading through his hair.

“Shh,” Thor whispered.

“S’mornin’,” Steve replied, squinting in the sunlight streaming through the window. “Trainin’.”

“We have no need to go anywhere for a few moments,” the king didn’t loosen his grip, rubbing his fingers into Steve’s side. “I just want to enjoy this, with you.”

This was nice. Steve sighed and relaxed, perfectly content. “How’d it  take us so long to get here...” he mumbled, half to himself. “Look at us. Couple of morons.”

“Just one moron,” Thor chuckled. “I am a  _ royal _ moron, thank you.”

“Fair,” Steve happily agreed.

They lay together as the sun came up, naked but warm under the blankets. Steve knew that staying warm this winter wouldn’t be much of an issue. He really didn’t want to get up. Eventually though, they had to. Thor slid out first, putting on some pants and bringing over Steve’s clothes, admiring him as he folded off the blankets and got dressed in a sunbeam. Steve wondered why he hadn’t noticed Thor staring at him like that sooner, and why when he had it hadn’t raised his suspicions.

“Your arm...” Thor smile creased into a frown. He reached forward, taking Steve’s wrist and turning the limb to inspect it. His forearm was covered in bruises, and there were more all over his torso. “That wasn’t-”

“It wasn’t you,” Steve quickly shook his head. “The fight. And I bruise easy anyway. I’m alright, I promise.”

“You fought well,” Thor sighed and nodded, relieved, still drawing back his grip with hesitance. “I must admit it was watching you yesterday that was the final straw.”

Steve blushed. Had that really been what tipped the king over the edge, watching him in battle? Smiling, he straightened out his shirt. “Thanks for letting me come. Most faith than anybody’s put in my physical abilities, that’s for sure. Though a bit more training wouldn’t go amiss...” he rubbed his shoulder, which was sore from swinging his shield around so much.

“I have trusted you with my life before, and it has paid off,” Thor agreed, frowning again. “ Are you certain I didn’t hurt  you..? ”

“Really certain,” Steve nodded in confidence.

“My strength-”

“Is under control,” Steve stood up and looked into his eyes. “You won’t hurt me, promise. I’m not made of glass, and you’re far gentler than you think you are. You’re not going to hurt me. I trust you. Completely. Last night felt good, so if you want to do it again...”

“Yes.” Thor breathed, drawing him in, kissing his lips with want and clutching his face, holding him captive. “Yes. But at your pace. We move at your pace, alright?”

“Okay,” Steve agreed, standing on tip-toes so he could better reach. He wrapped his arms around Thor’s neck, burying his fingers in the king’s hair and dragging his head down into another kiss. “Okay. But you have to let me make you feel good sometimes too, okay?”

“Slow,” Thor agreed. “Don’t worry yourself with that. We can build up to it. Let me find what you like first. That would make me happy. Please, Steve.”

Steve couldn’t argue that he’d very much like that do that again – once was  _ not _ enough, though he might need a couple of days to not be so sore. He also had to admit that he wouldn’t be entirely sure what to do as the giver, so maybe a few runs just taking and learning would be the best way to make sure he could make Thor feel as good as Thor had made him feel last night.  _ After everything you’ve given me,  _ _ surely _ _ I can give you this.  _ Maybe it wouldn’t be quite as... much, but it would be something. Or, maybe Thor flat-out preferred to give instead of take, which was fine. They would  learn each other soon enough, that he was sure of. The transition from what they’d had to this wasn’t much of a leap. They’d already been intimate in every way that mattered more.

So he agreed, and Thor glowed with pleasure. “Our friends will start to get worried for us,” he picked the shield off the floor and handed it over along with a warmer jacket. “Come on.”

“Wait till later.”

“That is an atrocious joke, Steven.” Thor grinned, opening the door and ushering him through.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a lull before things ramp up.

To be honest, he’d never really contemplated sex with Steve. It had just sort of happened. In the moment, he’d wondered if this was going to work, because as much as he admired Steve for his strengths, he’d have to be a different kind of idiot to ignore that the other man might not be able to sustain a physical relationship with him. As it was, Steve had held out. He’d tired easily, and struggled at first, but the experience had been enjoyable for both of them in the end. It would get easier the more they tried that arrangement.

Thor didn’t mind at all that Steve was spent before the king had barely begun. They would work things out between them, find something that was satisfying for both of them, but for now he wasn’t rushed. Pleasuring Steve was alright by him, though he knew the soldier would protest against it being that way forever. Steve was too generous to let Thor get away with that, and it was only fair to let him. Thor was a little curious to find out what Steve would do to him, with his cheeky grin and eager eyebrows.

Unfortunately, there was work to be done. Steve was too sore for proper training, but he did a few simple, easy routines with Natasha while Thor went to speak with Clint about the other scouting parties that had returned, and what information they had brought. They hadn’t exactly had the time yesterday.

Clint’s eagle-eyed stare immediately noticed something was different, but the archer didn’t mention whatever he was picking up on. “The scouts brought back some troubling information,” he relayed. “One group was able to get pretty far into the base, and, well... They found more of that powder. Different formulas, all laid out for testing. They were giving it to the prisoners to see what it would do to them. There were maps there too. HYDRA’s planning something big.”

Thor looked mournfully back at Steve, watching him move. It was cruel to finally get this, while war crept its hungry, robbing fingers closer. He wished he could snap his fingers and make it all go away, that there was nothing to draw his focus. He’d asked a lot of Steve, just by furthering their relationship. Thor couldn’t give all of himself while this war was mounting and mounting.  _ You deserve better. _ Now was no time to go back on it though – Steve had given his consent, and Thor wanted it. It made him happy, and Steve had made his choice.  _ Did you know what you were getting into? Did I give you enough information to make that decision? _

Too late. It was far too late, after what they’d done last night.

“You alright?” Clint peered at him, examining his posture.

“Yes,” Thor agreed with a smile. “More than alright.”

The archer raised implicating eyebrows. “You... you didn’t.”

There was no point in hiding it. There ever had been. “I shall no longer be needing your assistance in that aspect,” Thor nodded, glancing back at Steve. “Though I am grateful for your offer.

“So, you guys uh...” Clint smirked. “Kissed?”

Thor nodded with a smile he couldn’t stop from stretching across his blushing face.

“You... did more than kissed.” Was it really that obvious? His silence spoke for him, because Clint was shaking his head proudly. “Finally,” he gave his approval. “’bout time.”

“There are urgent matters to discuss,” Thor straightened, batting him away. “We must decide what to do with this information.”

“Yeah, okay,” Clint agreed, looking back as the soldier finished up their routines for the day and wandered off to get fed and changed. Steve and Natasha had already finished up and were walking over to join them, and by the looks of things the general had already interrogated her student for information on last night – Steve's face was beet red, but he was trying to play it off, even as Clint clapped him heartily on the shoulder in congratulation.

As soon as all six of them were gathered back in the planning room as usual, he nudged right up against Steve and gave in trying to hide how he felt. Steve’s arm wrapped around his and clung on, leaving both the king’s hands free to point as necessary at the map. He didn’t bother himself at the stares of his friends or their proud smiles – he trusted them, and this development apparently wasn’t a surprise to anyone. Tony was leaning on the table watching them with a sly grin, making no effort to hide how much he was enjoying this.

Steve just hung on tighter, unabashed about offering his support. Thor greedily accepted it, leaning a bit into Steve’s strength and bolstering his own with it. He pointed confidently at the map. “ So the base we should be concerned with is this one.”

“That’s where they’re making the powder,” Clint agreed. “The scout said it looked like they were searching for something too, with all the maps they had laid out. They couldn’t be sure what though.”

Thor stood back and stared at the chess pieces while he gathered his thoughts. His friends gave him time to think in silence, Steve ever-steady at his side. “The powder must be destroyed,” he finally spoke. “And the prisoners...” He could hardly bear the thought of people just like Steve’s passed friend being tested on and tortured.

“If we run straight in, they’ll know we’re on to them and shut everything down, or move it somewhere else. They’re planning something in the same building,” Steve replied calmly. “If we shut them down, they’ll just take their plans to a more discrete location, and we might not find them again in time to stop them, or figure out their plan from the stuff that’s there.”

Steve was right. If they charged right in, HYDRA would just keep the plan running somewhere else, and they might not be able to guarantee that everyone involved in it and the making of the power would be at the base when they raided it. Attacking would alert the enemy that  Asgard was aware of their movements, and drive their activities under-ground.

But he felt sick at the thought of those prisoners held captive. 

It was heart against the mind, as it so often was. Thor sighed. “We need more information, for a start,” he explained.  _ Information. Gathering information. Over and over again, running back and forth. Seems all we can do, run in circles, never getting anything done.  _ "I want to know what’s on those maps. Send a few men, have them bring back whatever notes they can, and any papers that won’t be missed. I want information on where the prisoners are kept and what is necessary to free them.”

“And samples of the powder,” Bruce interjected.

“We’ll send men out right away,” Natasha was already striding out, Clint on her tail.

“I’d better get to work,” Tony nodded one and sauntered off, giving Steve a thumbs-up and a hearty smack on the arm as the left.

“It’s  gonna be alright.” Steve squeezed his arm tighter, reminding the king he was there. 

“I know,” Thor murmured, staring at the map. “I cannot help but be worried.” He curled the arm in Steve’s possession and fed his fingers through the soldier’s own, lacing them and holding on.

“Whatever they’re planning, we’ll stop it,” Steve promised. “Together. We’re all with you. This isn’t just your fight.”

He knew that, too, but he needed to hear it. Thor smiled and hung his head, turning and taking Steve’s other hand. It was already on its way to greet it, long fingers wrapping around his own and tightly hanging on. Thor leaned forward, careful of the shield edge, and rested his head on Steve’s shoulder. “I wish you no longer had to fight this war,” he sighed. “I wish nobody had to. But you have never stopped fighting. You deserve to rest, but I’m glad to have you at my side. I’m glad for all of you.”

Steve let go of one hand so he could wrap his arm around Thor’s back in a hug. “We’re all pretty glad to have a king like you, too,” he replied. “There’s nobody I’d rather follow.”

That tickled his cheeks pink, and his smile widened. He drew back so that Steve could see how happy that made him. “Will you follow me to the bedroom, then?” He could tell the soldier was still stiff, from the battle and sex. Thor had a feeling that little Steve taking on his size like that had probably hurt a lot more than the tough soldier had let on.

“I’m not sure I can go another round so soon,” Steve lifted a joking eyebrow, but there was some remorse and apology underneath.

Thor waved his hands and shook his head. “Ah, no, I did not mean that. I was going to suggest a hot bath...”

Steve sighed with pleasure at the very thought of it, shifting his weight and drooping forward. “That’d be really nice,” he agreed quietly, gratefully, reaching up to rub his shield-throwing arm.

“Alright, come on then,” Thor linked their arms and started to lead. This would take his mind off things, and it always made him happy to do something for Steve. Steve, who deserved everything he had to give and more. He deserved to feel like a king, and luckily Thor had the resources to do just that.

Soon, he was entering his room with a full basin of water, carrying its weight with his enhanced strength and setting it on the floor by the privacy curtain. Steve was sitting on the bed naked, wrapped in a blanket, waiting. He looked up and watched with uncontained awe as Thor managed the impossibly heavy burden of a full bathtub, and Thor  _ maybe _ made a bit of a show of taking off his shirt after he’d set it down, flexing the muscles across his back before turning.

Steve stood up and walked over, peering into the steaming water with curiosity. “Never had a hot bath before...” he mused.

“Have I not offered you one before?” Thor asked incredulously. It was certainly not much trouble to prepare on, not when he could carry the whole tub by himself. It didn’t take very long to heat the water in a pot over the fire, either.

Steve batted a hand. “It was a bit too hot for one until recently, I think.” He shed the blanket, letting it slide off his shoulders and draping it over the chair Thor had brought nearby to rest some  cloths on. His bent spine and ribs pressed aggressively against the scars plastered all over his back was on full display, as well as the bruises all over him. They splattered his thin waist and narrow hips, wrapping around parts of his legs. But he was beautiful naked.

Thor walked up behind him and scooped him off the floor, grinning and pushing a kiss into Steve’s soft, white belly.

“Hey-!” Steve protested as he was swept off his feet, but didn’t really fight it. He chuckled as Thor’s beard brushed his skin as the king kissed up his body all the way to his lips. The soldier’s hand came up to stroke his beard, head resting on the king’s shoulder while they kissed in the glow of a watchful afternoon sun. It was a bright day with no clouds, so the air was colder today. Steve  shivered, his skin instantly bumpy. He folded instantly into Thor’s warmth, trying to make himself as small as possible.

Thor quickly lowered him into the steaming water, watching and listening carefully in case it was too hot, but Steve just trembled with pleasure and sank down into the bath. He submerged his lips and wrapped his arms around himself, while his eyes told tales of pleasure. Thor smiled and folded up a cloth, pushing it behind Steve’s neck to cushion it. “Feels nice, doesn’t it.”

Steve nodded in agreement, slowly unfolding as the water melted him. 

Eagerly, Thor reached forward and clamped his hands around Steve’s shoulders, working his fingers into the muscles. Steve’s words came back to him, about being afraid to hurt the smaller man with his super-human strength: he had himself under control.  So he rubbed and squeezed, stroking his hands up Steve’s graceful neck and into his hair. He rubbed the soldier’s ears and clasped his arms, dipping under the water to rub down them. Then he slid back up and pushed his hands over Steve’s shoulders and down his chest.

It clearly took some effort, but Steve lifted himself out of the water a bit so he could turn. “Come in with me,” he offered hopefully, shuffling forward to leave room.

Thor was already loosening his pants. He disrobed the rest of the way and eagerly climbed in, feeding his body behind Steve’s and pushing a leg either side. It was a bit of a squeeze, but Steve fit in his lap, their legs tangled up to be comfortable. The soldier leaned back with a contented sigh.

It had been a long time since Thor had had a hot bath himself, and it felt good. It felt especially good with Steve on his chest, head lolled into his pec, settled perfectly between the muscles. Thor reached his arm under Steve’s and continued to stroke up and down the soldier’s chest, careful of the bruising.

“Are you certain you’re alright?” he finally had to ask. Steve nodded and murmured his affirmation. “Because you can tell me if it hurts... I won’t kick you out of the army, I promise.”

He could see Steve’s cheeks swell with a smile even  from this angle. “ M’fine , promise.”

“Alright... but you know you can always come to me, right? And Bruce, and the others.  _ Certainly _ me. If something hurts? Anything.”

Steve nodded again. “I know. Thank you. I... I will.”

Thor sighed and kissed up Steve’s neck, lingering at his ear when the soldier shuddered and moaned involuntarily as the king’s beard tickled him.  _ I will make you feel good in ways you can’t imagine. I will make you feel as you deserve, to the best of my ability. _

They savored the bath, but it was getting near time to eat, the water wasn’t as hot anymore, and Steve’s skin was wrinkling. Thor crawled out first, swinging his legs over the edge of the metal basin easily before plunging his arms back in and lifting Steve out next. He cradled the soldier in his arms, and Steve didn’t protest, wrapping his arms around the king’s neck and hanging on. He clutched the blankets as Thor set him down on them and wrapped him up in the thick sheets.

“Stay here a moment,” he leaned over and kissed the soldier’s forehead. “I will bring us some food.” Steve nodded mutely, his cheeks pink from the heat and a smile on his lips. He huddled into the blankets, wriggling under them as he started to dry himself from within his cocoon. Thor shrugged into his robe and left to put together some dinner.

He gathered fruits and meats, adding some hot tea to his tray, walking carefully back with his offering. Steve was already sitting up on the bed against the pillows, legs folded, rubbing his shoulders vigorously with the blanket.

Thor set the food by the bed and exchanged his robe for some real clothes, bringing some over for Steve, too. The soldier looked trouble, staring into the middle-distance. Before he could ask anything, Steve was looking up at him and slowly pulling down the blanket to expose his thin, battered torso. “Can I... ask you a favor?”

“Anything,” the king  replied worriedly.

“Can you... touch my back?” Steve waited for the reply, butting into the pause before Thor could answer. “I... I don’t like the contact, but I need... I need you to touch it. I don’t trust anyone more than you.”

It was an odd request, for certain, but not beyond reason. He nodded. “If you’re certain you want this.”

“Yes,” Steve agreed. “I... need it to be mine. And, well- you- I just want it to be linked to something other than what happened. It’s part of me.”

“Here, roll over,” Thor offered a kind smile and a helping hand, easing Steve’s body over and pushing a pillow under his stomach. He covered the other man’s lower half in a blanket and sat beside him. Immediately, Steve tensed, head turned sideways to face him, wincing and shaking with anxiety already.

“Just... slow,” he whispered. “Please. It’s kinda sore.”

Maybe ‘ kinda ’ meant ‘very’, but Thor didn’t press. He stroked Steve’s soft hair with one hand and reached for his burned shoulder with the others. “Are you ready?” he asked softly, and upon receiving a shaky nod, he made  contact .

His warm palm closed over the curled tentacle, pushing down faintly. A whimper strained out of Steve’s lips as the soldier clutched the blankets.

“Let me know if I’m hurting you, or if you want me to stop,” Thor ordered gently. “I’m going to move my hand now. Steady, Steve. Breathe. We do not have to do this-”

“No,” Steve whined. “ Gotta do it.”

Thor obliged. He swept his palm lengthways across Steve’s shoulders, smoothly stroking over every inch of scarring. “Still alright?” he asked, tracing his fingers down Steve’s spine, over each bump of vertebrae and scar tissue. Steve nodded, still clutching the blankets in both fists and trembling into the blankets. “Breathe,” he urged, drawing around the more tender spots. He slowly wrapped his hands around Steve’s waist and held him, leaning over and kissing between his shoulder blades. He kissed the melted lines, and the unblemished skin in between. He kissed gently over the swollen bumps in the middle of Steve’s back. He shifted his hands and kissed the red spots on his waist. He kissed all the way down Steve’s spine, pulling the blankets just below the last tendril of scar and following with his lips, hating the mark but not loving Steve any less for it.

Shivering a little less, Steve turned his head and peered over with one cracked eyelid.

“Get dressed,” Thor suggested, grasping Steve’s hips and leaning forward far enough to press a kiss behind his ear. “We should eat. I’m sure you’re cold.” Steve’s skin was bumpy when he reached up to rub his arms.

Steve smiled, rolling onto his back and wiping his eyes. “You’re not  gonna fatten me up, you know.”

“Who says that’s what I’m trying to do?” Thor handed over a shirt.

“Always  tryn’a feed me,” Steve lay back and stuck his feet through his pant legs one at a time, lifting his hips off the blankets to pull them the rest of the way up. He sat up again and stuck his arms into the sleeves of his jacket as Thor wrapped it around his shoulders. “I’m not  gonna put any more weight on than this.”

“Forgive me for wanting you to be fed,” Thor handed over a cup of hot tea and set the tray between them, sitting cross-legged across from the soldier to eat. Was Steve worried about being so small and bony? Thor didn’t really think he was  _ that _ small – touching or picking Steve up was always a bit of a surprise, because Steve didn’t  _ act _ small. Not when he’d grabbed Thor by the front of his shirt yesterday and  _ yanked _ them together. But then, Thor was weak for him anyway. He’d always been blind to their size differences.

Steve was still worn out from yesterday, but they spent the last few hours of evening up in the painting room. Steve painted, Thor played his mandola, and then they shuffled off to bed. With one low sigh, Steve practically collapsed into the mattress, and was immediately asleep. Thor pulled off his glasses and set them on the bedside table, undressing both of them and wrapping his body around the smaller man. The nights were growing colder, but they were warm under the blankets together.

The next morning, Steve was up and rested, ready to launch straight back into his training. While the soldier was busy, Thor went down into the city.

It was sunny enough that the king could wear a light jacket over his shirt, but many people were starting to bundle up.  _ It might not take much later down the road... _ Bruce’s words echoed loud and clear in his head. He’d been able to forget them, but they were starting to come back. He couldn’t let himself be complacent in the fact that Steve had so far been strong and healthy. The small bout of illness he’d caught, he’d shrugged off quickly. Maybe he would be fine. But Thor couldn’t risk it, couldn’t risk not taking every precaution this winter. Asgardian winters were generally sunny, but chilly. 

He bought some gloves from the leather-worker. They were the right size for Steve’s long fingers, lined with rabbit fur. He bought him an even warmer jacket than the ones he’d already given the soldier, and a thick scarf. All of Steve’s armor would still fit over top, but these would keep him cozy. Thor found a few pairs of warmer pants, and a fur-lined cloak as well. The cold would be no match for thick layers of fur, surely. He just hoped that Steve would stay in if the weather was too harsh, that he wouldn’t argue to train or fight with the other soldiers and would see sense. Steve had nothing to prove.  _ I will tie you to the bed if I have to, for your own safety. _ He would do anything necessary to get Steve through the winter.  _ We have hardly spent any time together. _

Steve’s life might very well be a blip against his, in the long run. The soldier just didn’t have the resilience that Thor did.  _ Nobody _ did. Thor tried not to think about that as he walked back up to the castle to put what he’d bought up in his room. He’d already cleared a space for Steve in his dressers. That seemed like a logical step to make. They  _ had _ had sex, after all, and Steve was generally the first to crawl into Thor’s bed, and rarely waited for an invitation before sliding in after the king. 

_ However much of my life you share, I will make sure it is the best I can give you.  _ He would have to be prepared for the worst, because though it was a morbid, pessimistic thought, it was the most likely outcome. Even if Steve lived a long and healthy life, it was still far more likely that Thor would outlive him. Of course, the king could die in battle, and he couldn’t forget that, but still – Steve didn’t have any magic to protect him.  _ You have me.  _ And Bruce, and Natasha, and Clint, and Tony.  _ We will all protect you. _

Thor sighed and pulled his mother’s wedding ring out of its box, sliding it onto the only finger it fit on, his right pinky. He twisted it, mouthing the words he recounted from memory rather than actually reading them. The incantation hadn’t done his father much good. Or maybe sometimes no magic wasn’t powerful enough to stop fate. All things came to an end. Even magic couldn’t stop death. He wondered what his father would have thought of Steve.  _ Odin would have disapproved.  _ His father wouldn’t have been pleased that Thor was sharing so much time and space with this weak boy from a poor village. He’d have maybe put Steve to work around the castle. He certainly wouldn’t have let him fight.  _ But he wouldn’t have kicked you out, even if he might not have liked you much. I could have warmed him to you. He was a kind man, beneath his flaws. _

_ Mother would have loved you.  _ He smiled at the ring, thinking fondly of a scene that would never come to pass: his mother, showing Steve all her texts about magic, teaching him to read the ancient scripts. Steve was smart, would have quickly learned it. She would have probably brought him up to the painting room long before Thor would have thought to.

And Loki would have slowly warmed up, but they’d have made friends. Loki had always wrestled with being the physically weaker brother, the one with talents just as equal, but less valued by their father. He’d have sympathized with Steve’s case, with the soldier’s boundaries that were out of his control. There would have been no pity from his brother, and Steve would have respected that. He’d have understood Loki like Thor never could, as much as he’d always tried.  _ You would have been good for each other.  _

None of that would pass. Thor looked out the window, wondering if his family really was watching. He hoped so. He wanted to see them again, someday.  _ But that’s a long time away, I hope.  _ Thor hoped he had many more decades of life ahead of him. He had more to give this kingdom, and life  _ was _ good. It would be better once this war was over. Would his family greet Steve, too? Was Steve’s own family waiting for him up there?  _ I’m sorry, Sarah Rogers, James Barnes... I want to keep him a while longer. _


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy yourselves B) We're picking things up again, so get ready.

It was a bright Winter day, warm enough that he didn’t have to layer up so much. Just a jacket was enough today, with the warm sun on his back and a few clouds to keep the heat in. It had been chilly for weeks now, so it was a nice change to be able to walk around without having to wrap himself so tightly in furs.

Warmth had always been difficult for Steve’s small body to retain, but not here, not with lots of furs to keep him warm in the day, and Thor to heat him at night. They slept together naked in Thor’s bed every night. Sometimes, they had sex, when Steve wasn’t too tired from training, and could hold out for long enough to make it worth-while. Thor proclaimed he didn’t mind how long or short sex was between them, but Steve always did his best to go for as long as he could, to pace himself.

After about a couple of times taking, he’d asked to give. He  _ needed _ to give something back. It hadn’t taken him long to get the hang of what to do, and besides, it was all instinct. Steve had pretty good instincts, and Thor wasn’t exactly shy about what he liked.

Usually, no words were needed to kick things off, but that time, when Thor had pushed him into the bed, Steve had pushed back. He’d taken the king by his shirt and shoved him, and despite their difference in strength, Thor had submitted to him. He’d opened his mouth to protest, but Steve hadn’t taken it, clamping a hand over his mouth. Inexperienced as he was, Thor had taught him enough, and he’d reduced the king to syrup in his hands. With the same confidence he’d had when riding that massive horse, he rode Thor into the sheets. It should be impossible, his small size winning out against Thor’s huge, muscular body, but sometimes it wasn’t about strength – sometimes it was about technique and finesse, and a little patience. All of this was so new, but he was unabashed to search for what Thor liked, for what places he liked to be kissed and touched, how he liked to be grabbed. Thor liked to be grabbed with authority, and Steve was happy to oblige. It was a little weird at first, commanding a king, but seeing how happy Thor was to be taken quickly wiped all  apprehension away.

It would be impossible for Steve to ever tire Thor out, but he liked to think he’d given the king at least a little satisfaction. Indeed, the proof was in the pudding – or rather, the custard. He couldn’t exhaust Thor, but he could certainly render him breathless. After a couple of times, he figured out a pattern, and the best way to get the king panting.

Thor didn’t care how evenly-balanced everything was. He would give and give and give without ever asking for anything in return, and not just when it came to sex, Steve knew that. That gave him so much more pleasure, then, when he actually got the chance to return the favor. 

He knew Thor was preparing a gift for him for the Winter solstice celebration. So was Steve: he’d been working on a painting for a few weeks now, in secret, and he was confident it was going to finally be better than what the king could give him.

Natasha and Clint had been helping him sneak into the forest for ‘extra training sessions’, so he could sketch the forest and any wildlife they came across for reference. Steve had learned early into the process that Thor had a soft spot for deer, and so had been desperate to come across one to study. Luckily, a herd had come through the forest, grazing lichen off the trees. They’d hung around the area for days, and he had pages and pages of reference sketches.

Bruce had tried a couple of things to help reduce his tremor, but it was still there, rattling his hand as he tried to draw. That was alright; painting was going really, really well. Now that it was colder, he spent a lot more time up there working. His friends invented tasks to occupy Thor with so he could have some private time to work on his gift, but otherwise the king liked to sit up there with him and strum away at his mandola. It was soothing, and he worked on other projects instead.

Other times, they talked. They talked strategy. Thor liked to run ideas by him up there in the safety of that room. It had become their safe space, a room to get work done. Sometimes that was creative work, other times war planning, but often both at once.

Training was going well, too. Natasha was a good teacher, and she had quickly learned his strengths and weaknesses. She knew when he needed breaks, and knew how to push him. Together, they had built him a completely new fighting style centered around his shield. It was the perfect weapon for him, and he was starting to get the hang of throwing it. Once he’d built up enough strength in his arms, and done some practice, his tremor no longer affected the quality of his throw. He couldn’t put quite the force behind it that others could, but he was able to put a clean spin on the disk and hit a target well enough. They practiced in the forest, usually, and Natasha would direct him to the tree she wanted him to hit. 

Now, they were building up the technique, and he was practicing how to bounce the shield off to hit two targets with one throw. That was a bit tougher, especially considering that his throw could use a bit more force behind it, but he was getting there. Sometimes, he could even bounce the shield off just one target and catch it as it came back. Of course, a human target was a bit different from a tree, in both texture and mobility, but this was a good start.

Steve was really excited to present this painting. He had another week to finish it, and was in the city to buy more paint. He’d run out of a particular blue pigment that brought the green shadows to life. Thor had told him where to buy it weeks ago, when he’d asked. He’d slipped away with Natasha’s aid to buy some yellows and browns the following day – he was going to put Thor in the painting, at the edge of the river, watching the deer drink and graze on the other side.

Thor was the gentlest person he’d ever met. The kindest, most observant, most thoughtful. Beautiful from top to bottom, inside and out, in a way that went beyond his muscles. Steve couldn’t convey that with words, or even just a drawing. No, he needed color and light to help him. So that’s what he’d done; created a serene image of a man with his feet dangling in the flowing water, carefree and at peace, his posture loose, and the sun glowing warmly through the foliage above. Everything was quiet, and the edges were soft, the colors lush.

It was going to be  _ so _ perfect. He’d been working for hours over it, fighting for every ounce of control that he could to get the finest details in the birds’ feathers and the glint in the  deers ’ eyes. He’d taken to bracing his hand with the other and resting his elbow on his knee, dabbing color with as much precision as he could muster. It was painful, and he could only do small portions at a time, but it was paying off. Bruce had been by once to check on  him, and had stopped to marvel at his work.

“You are a prodigy,” the doctor had breathed, and Steve had flushed with pride.

Life was good. Life was  _ so _ good, even with the mounting war.

War  _ was _ coming. It was just on the horizon, threatening to spill over and rupture this thread-bare peace draped over the land. HYDRA was on the move.

Where they were moving, everyone was still trying to work out. With the enhancement drug and their collection of maps, it was clear they were up to something. And recently, a scouting party had returned with horrified stares, recounting how they’d found ancient books stacked in a room full of bloody marks on the walls, ominous trinkets made of bone and black steel and ruby gems littered on tablets near candles – HYDRA were dabbling in black magic.

Thor had gone to his mother’s texts that day, digging them out of his bookshelves and cursing himself under his breath for not paying closer attention to her lessons. He’d struggled to understand even a full sentence of the old language, frustrated at himself, wishing his mother and brother were still here to help. Punching? That was no problem for the king. But this? This was out of his depth. It was out of  _ all _ their depths.

Most of all, Thor hated the vaults full of useless artifacts, things his forefathers had sacrificed countless lives to retrieve. None of them were worth a damn thing here.

What they had to do, then, was stop HYDRA from obtaining what they wanted, stop them from learning whatever spells they were trying to harness, destroy their supplies. That was the plan, to venture back to their base a few days’ travel away and purge it of all their equipment, all their books. They would do it all in one hard strike, now that they had almost all the information they needed. Once the final scouting party returned, they would free the prisoners, and destroy the enhancement powder and enchantment supplies at once.

It was only days away, and Steve was coming. He knew Thor preferred him safe and at home instead of in the thick of danger, but the king knew this was important to him, fighting HYDRA. That, he was grateful for. So far, he’d come away from his fights pretty well.

On top of the scar on his hand from his first fight (a smooth white line that Thor often liked to rub his thumb over with admiration), he had acquired a couple  more small marks. One on his leg, from an arrow that had fire below his shield before he could duck, slicing through his pants and into his calf. There was another on his side from a knife that had come a bit too close, and one on his cheek where a hard punch had taken the skin off. He was proud of all his scars – they were scars he’d earned, fought for. They were marks that proved he’d stood up for what he believed in, that he’d taken a stance and done something about it.

Compared to his back, they hadn’t hurt at all. That’s what he’d told himself over and over again, until finally allowing himself to admit that they did hurt a little, and that was alright. All warriors got hurt sometimes. Even Natasha, who had actually taken an arrow deep enough in her leg to hinder her. He’d gotten to her before anyone else could, and planted himself in front of her, shield raised. With his strength alone, he’d protected her, and that had been his absolute pleasure. And if she could accept help, if Thor could, then so could he.

So he’d let his friends help him when he needed it. A few stitches here and there were generally all he needed, plus hefty doses of medicine to remove as much chance as was possible of the wound getting infected.

Thor loved his scars. Sex was their preferred way to wind down after a fight, to rejoice in each other’s safety, and Thor always kissed his scars when they did. He kissed Steve’s back, too, claiming HYDRA’s symbol with his lips. Thor’s lips were more powerful than all of HYDRA widespread armies, stronger than its ideals. Under Thor’s lips, the brand started to feel more like his. He’d been right to trust the king with this, to let him minister to it and take away the hurt.

He hoped he got to spend a long time with Thor. He’d been taking a bit of extra medicine with his breakfast, something Bruce had recommended to help strengthen his system through the winter. Between that, Thor keeping him warm, and staying well-fed, he was doing remarkably well. Usually, the first snow-fall brought bad news for him, but so far so good – he hadn’t contracted anything. 

The shop wasn’t far. Steve pulled off his gloves and stuffed them in his pockets. He walked across the threshold and up to the counter, smiling at the shopkeeper, who smiled right back.

“Back again?” he asked, coming to the counter and taking off his glasses.

Steve nodded, taking out some money. “I need a blue,” he explained. “What pigments do you have?”

The older man rubbed his greying beard and turned around, going to his drawers and sliding out one covered in small jars identical to the ones up in the painting room. He sat the drawer on the table and nudged it closer. Steve stood up on his toes and peered in, carefully lifting out the jars one at a time to inspect them in a spear of daylight until he found the  one he wanted. “This one,” he smiled triumphantly, putting in on the counter.

The shopkeeper slid the drawer away while Steve counted out some coins. “That’s perfect,” the man kindly scooped the money into his hand and put it away under the counter. “I hope to see this work of art when you’re finished with it. Tell Lord Thor I expect a visit.” He spread out some brown paper and wrapped the jar inside, tying it off with some string.

“Of course,” Steve beamed. “Thank you.”

“See you again,” the shopkeeper waved him off. “Keep warm.”

“You too.” Steve waved back, sliding the little jar into his pocket.

It was too beautiful a day to walk straight back, and his friends weren’t expecting him for a while yet. Natasha would be training with Thor until noon as least. There was time to explore the city a little. As he usually did when he was out, he bought himself some food. There were always people selling fresh foods scattered between the other shops: warm bread, tarts, sweets, fruit, breads with jam inside, milk sweetened with crushed berries, jars of peaches flavored with all kinds of exotic spices. Steve loved the feeling of fresh bread in his bare fingers, so he bought a bun from the elderly woman he usually bought from, greeting her like he always did, and pausing to chat.

These days, people asked him about Thor. Since the Fall celebration, word had spread that Steve was part of the court, and his face had become familiar among the people. It was a little embarrassing, but everyone was kind. As far as he could tell, nobody knew of his romantic involvement with their king, but that was fine. That could be their secret for a while longer.

The people worried for their king. They truly cared about him, and his well-being. They’d asked about Thor’s wounds from his solo attack on the HYDRA base and near-assassination, and Steve was always pleased to say that the king had healed perfectly. Thor got what he gave; sometimes people gave Steve things to bring back to him as gifts, or asked for advice on what they should give for the next celebration. With his own generosity, Thor had fostered it in return. Even amidst wartimes, the citizens were happy to give.

That was why Steve didn’t mind slipping in a few coins extra whenever he bought something. He knew Thor wouldn’t mind anyway, but it was the right thing to do. What amazed him was how easily everyone accepted him, with not a care for where he’d come from, or who he was. All they knew was that Thor had welcomed him here, therefore so would they.

Sometimes they gave  _ Steve _ gifts, in thanks for his protection. He’d ridden through the city enough times now for them to see he was part of the army, and usually at least one person would try to give him food or discount him for whatever he was buying, as thanks for his protection, and his service. He couldn’t always talk his way out of accepting it, either, but he supposed this was part of his duty now, and it always made the citizens happy to give him a token of their gratitude.

Since it was winter, most of the fruit he came across was preserved, so Steve was surprised to find a woman selling fresh apples.

“These are winter apples,” she held one out. It was shiny and pink. The skin was crisp, and the flesh was crunchy and tart, sweetness spreading across his tongue. It was the most delicious apple he’d ever tasted, fat and flavorful. He paid for it and walked on, enjoying it leisurely.

Steve poked his head into the bar for a quick drink, desperate to wet his throat after so much walking. He didn’t have much of a tolerance, but half a pint of something light would do him perfectly. He slid into a stool and bought his drink, which the bartender poured for him.

A trio of men sat beside him, passing drinks between them, laughing disruptively, clearly drunk. Steve watched them as he sipped his pale ale.

“Not from ‘round ‘ere,” the bartended leaned on the bar and peered over, nodding at the group. “Ordered the strongest stuff we ‘ad. Asgardian liquor takes a lot of people by surprise.”

Steve knew that, because Thor had warned him early not to drink too much. The king had given him a little to help him sleep once, though, and just that  little bit had left him a bit giggly. It was even strong enough to draw pink into Thor’s cheeks. He wondered how much these men had had.

One of them smashed a glass on the floor, throwing it down loudly and startling everyone else in the bar. A girl screamed and covered her face. Steve responded before the bartender, sliding off his stool and running over without a care for the shards scattered across the floor – he had tough boots on. The bartender was shouting behind him, ordered the men to pay for the last of their drinks and leave. Steve ignored the commotion and knelt beside the girl. She was probably a bit younger than he was, covering her face with her arms, huddled fearfully in her seat.

“Hey,” Steve said kindly, gently taking her arms in his hands. “Are you okay?” She shuddered in his grip, but didn’t say anything. “Can you lower your arms?” 

He had this horrible image in his head of what he might see, but as she slowly relaxed and let him guide her hands into her lap, it was quickly made clear that the wound was not serious. It could have been though: a small piece of glass was poking out of her skin, resting against her eye socket just below her eye. A bit higher, and the bone wouldn’t have been there to stop it going any deeper.

“You’re alright,” Steve cupped her face to hold it still and inspect the wound. “Breathe, you’re okay.”

She was clearly rattled, but she obeyed him, gripping her knees and trying to breathe evenly and slowly. The bartender appeared beside him, tipping some strong brandy into a cloth. “You can pull it out?” he glanced at Steve.

With his long fingers, he sure could, even with his tremor. Steve braced his hand on her cheek and clutched the small shard between his thumb and forefinger. He gripped it tightly and slid it out, dumping it on the floor. He took his hands away and the bartender pushed the cloth into the girl’s face.

“Might sting a bit, love,” he warned her. He held the cloth there for a little while, and when he pulled back it had stopped bleeding. With a dry corner, he wiped her skin carefully clean. “Time to go home,” he suggested gently, tucking the cloth in his waistband and offering her his hands. She nodded and stood, letting him guide her to the door.

Steve straightened and looked around. People were watching, worried and shocked, but slowly going back to their business. “I’ll get her home,” he offered, nodding at the bartender, who nodded back and went to fetch a broom. Steve hurried to the door and slipped out, catching up with the girl and looping his arm through hers. He was barely the same size as her, but she leaned a bit into him, shaken and mute.

They started to walk, the girl leading, Steve at her side. They were barely on their path when reaching hands ripped her away from him, wrapping over her mouth and snatching her into a dim alleyway on his deaf side – maybe that why he hadn’t heard the approach. Steve whirled, but he was already being hauled in as well, fingers digging cruelly into his bicep.

It was the men from the bar, their eyes glazed with drink. They were unbalanced but purposeful, laughing while two of them shoved the girl against the wall, blocking her screams and tearing at her clothes. The whole scene jarred him out of his comfortable lull, out of the peace and friendliness of  Asgard . The man holding on to him was so much stronger than he was, but Steve wriggled out of his jacket and slid free, running for the girl before he could be snatched again.

These men, as most his opponents were, were too big for him to overpower. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the choice to let them rush him, not while they had the girl pinned between two of them. Steve swept out his leg and downed one, kicking the back of his knee and following through the spin, smashing the man in the face with his heel as he went down. The second let go of the girl and swept out an angry punch, which he easily ducked. “Run!” he yelled, and the girl scrambled to her feet, her eyes wide with fear. She tripped over herself getting up, wrapping her jacket tighter around herself and scrambling out of the snow. She ran, desperate.

The third man reached for her, and Steve turned his back on the other two so he could run and jump with all his power. He wrapped his arms around the larger man’s neck and jammed his knee under his ribs. The man staggered, winded and red in the face as the blood and air was cut off to his head. The girl escaped, fumbling wildly in terror. In a second, she’d disappeared around the corner, and Steve was alone.

A hand wrapped around the back of his shirt and yanked him back, throwing him into the snow. Steve pushed his feet in, searching for purchase, but the snow worked against him. The first man dove for him, drunk eyes hungry. Steve socked him in the face as hard as he could, buying himself the second he needed to get to his feet.

Between him and escape were all three of those men. He’d made them angry, now. He’d denied them what they’d wanted. Steve crouched and raised his hands, glancing over to see if anyone was around to help, but this part of the city was empty. He was on his own.

With his shield, maybe he’d have a chance at beating them, but bare-handed he’d just have to find a way to escape instead. That was his only hope. Steve had fought drunks before, and sometimes that was better than a sober opponent. But, as was in this case, drunks could sometimes be more determined, and lose themselves to the fight. Drunks were more likely to go too far. Steve patted his waist just in case, but he hadn’t brought any weapons with him.

These men didn’t fit in. They didn’t belong here. A shiver gripped Steve’s spine.

He was a soldier  now, he could do this. Natasha had trained him well, and Steve had never shied away from a fight. He’d fought plenty of people like this before anyway, back in his village. He clenched his jaw and scooped up a handful of snow, squeezing it into a ball and hurling it as he started to run. It hit the first man in the face, who reeled back. Steve ran, ducking under a swinging arm but not quite fast enough to avoid a tripping leg. Down he went, sprawling on his stomach. He pushed his glasses up his nose and clawed himself to his knees. He didn’t make it to his feet before a hand wrapped around his ankle and yanked him back. Hands grabbed his shirt, hauling him out of the snow. A wild fist hit him from the side, striking his good ear. Skull ringing, Steve turned his head back round and struggled, trying to drop out of his shirt.

Someone grabbed his arm and roughly pulled him away from his companion, almost ripping hard enough to yank the joint out of its socket. The man threw Steve to the ground, and he landed in a puff of snow.

They were going to tear him apart. One of them pounced on him, and he kicked him in the face with a crunch. The man reeled back with a wail, blood gushing out of his nose. Another immediately replaced him, pulling Steve off the ground by his shirt and thrusting him against the brick wall. A fist drove into his ribs, and Steve whipped his fist around in return. It collided with the man’s eye, and his attacker almost dropped him before another man could swoop in to deal his own blows. Steve punched him in the throat, remembering Natasha’s lessons, and punching again. He managed a third, the man stumbling back, choking and clutching his throat, before his friend grabbed Steve’s hand and twisted it viciously. Steve’s yelp was cut off as another fist struck his head and knocked the glasses right off his face.

Blood dripping off his chin, the man with the broken nose stumbled over, punching across Steve’s forehead. The friend holding him let go, and Steve fell into the snow, his head spinning. He coughed, fighting for air. A boot struck his ribs, bouncing his torso off the wall. It hit again and again, and when it finally  stopped he toppled sideway, breathless.

“You think you  can’sstop us,” one of the men, he lost track of which, grabbed him by the front of his shirt and held his shoulders against the brick. “You Asgard’ns think you can win this. You’re too weak, n'too stupid. Your armies will fall.”

“Hail HYDRA,” one of the other men slurred, staggering over, and Steve’s eyes widened. His ears were ringing, but he’d definitely heard that right. He opened his mouth, but never got the chance to say anything because another kick drove into his ribs and all the  air he’d managed to gather in his chest whooshed out of him.

Another punch, and he was out, dropping into the snow as they let go of him.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope to do a few more drawings, but sadly, midterms have stalled me.

Asgardian winters were always beautiful. The serenity of the land when it was covered in a blanket of snow was unmatched. It was easier to focus with a white wash damping colors and sounds. Today he was focusing on his spar with Clint.

The archer wasn’t as good at hand-to-hand as Natasha was, but Natasha was training with Steve, and Clint was still a challenging opponent. Just like his female colleague, he excelled at adaptability. He knew how to use Thor’s weaknesses against him, and though there weren’t many,  _ everybody _ had weaknesses. For Thor, those were his heightened senses. At least, they were weaknesses when he fought against Clint.

The archer clapped his palms together right beside the king’s ear, deafening him. Thor staggered, disoriented, turning to protect himself from Clint’s next attack. The archer came low, kicking his king in the back of the ankle. Thor went down on his side under his buckled leg, turning to lean his weight backward into his elbows and spinning at the hips. He whipped his leg around and caught Clint in the chest, sending the archer flying into a heap of snow. Thor pounced on him and lifted him out by the front of his shirt, setting him neatly on his feet.

Clint brushed himself off and ruffled his hair, rubbing his chest. “Nice one,” he remarked, adjusting his clothes.

They both turned at the sound of footsteps to see Natasha running toward them. Thor looked up at the sky; it was late afternoon, past when Steve’s usual training sessions ended, and a few flakes of snow were floating down as clouds rolled in and washed away the blue with hazy grey.

“Has anyone seen Steve?” she asked, slowing to a halt and panting. Thor immediately straightened.

“Why?” he asked worriedly. “I thought he was with you.”

She shook her head. “He wanted to go down into the city to buy something. He should have been back by now.”

“Go search the castle,” Thor ordered, pointing. “Clint, you too. Ask around. I’ll search the city. Did he say where he was going?”  _ I’m sure he’s fine. Steve’s gone by himself plenty of times. I should not worry for him so much. The city is safe. _

Natasha bit her lip, then shook her head. “He was going to get paint,” she explained quietly. 

“Alright,” Thor nodded, picking up his jacket and quickly getting it on. “Alright. We’ll find him. Perhaps someone kept him with their talking.” It had happened. There were lots of chatty, friendly people in the streets.

The others nodded and ran off, and Thor ran too. 

Everything was fine. He was being paranoid. They were  _ all _ being paranoid; Steve wasn’t just precious to him. Thor jogged down the snow-covered cobbles, keeping his eyes open on his way to the paint shop, just in case. He waved at people who greeted him, but he couldn’t stop to talk. 

The shopkeeper looked up with mild surprise to see his king entering, and gave a small  bow , coming  round the counter. “Your Highness-” he started, but Thor cut him off.

“Was Steve here?” he asked.

The shopkeeper frowned. “A few hours ago,” he agreed. “He bought some paint and left that way,” he pointed.

Thor didn’t stop to talk, nudging the door open and hurrying back into the snow. Flakes were falling more heavily now. Thor jogged along, weaving through the last few people on their way home or into a shop to take shelter from the weather. He peered into shop after shop, but if anyone had seen Steve there it was only in passing. Finally, as the worry mounted in his chest, he found some information.

“He was in ‘ere just an hour ago,” the bartender nodded with a concerned frown. “There was a bit of a ruckus, and he escorted a girl home. Went that way,” he gestured.

Perhaps he should have asked more questions, but Thor only had concern for Steve. Maybe Steve had just stopped for tea at the girl’s house. Maybe he’d been invited in from the storm for a little while. He prayed it was just that, that all their worrying would turn out to be foolish.

That was Steve’s jacket on the ground. Thor slowed his pace and stopped beside it, looking up and down the street. It was empty. He picked the jacket off the ground, and a package wrapped in brown paper fell out the pocket. He knelt to pick it up, and it rattled with the sound of broken glass. “Steve!” Thor shouted, looking around in desperation. Steve was somewhere without a coat, in this snow. “Steve, where are you? Are you here? Answer me!” 

Steve was gone. Someone had taken him. Someone had taken Steve, stolen him away-

Someone coughed quietly, but it was loud enough for his ears to pick up on. Thor stared down the alleyway, through the flurry of snow, and pushed forward. “Steve!” he called. “Are you there?”

Crunch – Thor looked down and lifted his boot, picking up a pair of cracked glasses. Steve’s glasses. His heart lurched, and he searched the alley as he rushed in farther. There was a dark shape sprawled in the snow, slumped against the wall. Through the white, he could see the splatters of red all around. Something had gone down here. Something big.

Steve had gone down too. Steve was on his side by the wall, a thin layer of snow on his cheek, his shirt ripped and stained red. His eyes were closed. “ _ Steve! _ ” Thor dropped the jacket in the snow, already shouldering off his own, too. He sank to his knees, uncaring that his pants quickly soaked through, and clutched Steve’s shoulder. He pushed back the soldier’s bangs and searched fearfully for a pulse. To his relief there was one – Steve was breathing. Steve was alive.

Steve coughed and opened his eye a crack as he was turned onto his back. His other eye was ringed with a half-moon of bruising, layered over by a bleeding split. Blood had already streaked across his face from the cut above his eyebrow. It was deep, had covered one side of his cheek in a sheet of blood. By the looks of it, it should have bled a lot worse had the cold not slowed the flow. More had bled from his nose, too. His lip and jaw were split and bruised.

Thor wasn’t sure what to feel, until worry finally climbed above the rage. He cradled Steve’s head out of the snow, pulling the smaller man into his lap. Steve moaned and stared dazedly at him, shivering. His lips were going blue, and his shirt was ripped halfway open, like someone had tried to disrobe him. Fearfully, Thor searched farther, but to his relief the soldier’s pants were untouched, still clung to his hips.

“Steve,” Thor whispered, wetting his palm with some snow and using it to rub the blood off the soldier’s face.  _ He needs to get back. He needs Bruce. _

_ Who did this. _

Someone was going to pay dearly.

Steve opened his lip, moving his tongue to speak. Instead, he just sighed and trembled, clutching Thor’s shirt with frozen fingers and gritting his teeth, groaning again as he started to come around.

Thor brushed at his hair, thumbing away some blood from around his eye and holding him close. “Steve.” Questions. He needed to ask some questions. “Where are you hurt?” Steve drew a shuddery breath, and it looked like it took a lot of effort. He licked his lips and huddled closer. Thor grabbed the soldier’s jacket, then his own, wrapping the smaller man in both as carefully as he could. “I need you to tell me where you’re hurt,” he murmured. “Are you with me?”

It didn’t look like he was, especially not with how hard he must have been struck in the skull, but Steve swallowed roughly and nodded. “Thor,” he rasped. “Thor...  Got’em good, promise...”

“Shh,” Thor shook his head, bending down to kiss  Steve’s forehead tenderly. “You can tell me what happened later. Where did they hurt you?”

Steve winced and rubbed a hand up his chest. “Ribs,” he wheezed. Then he shifted his other hand from under the jackets. A few fingers on his dominant hand were swollen and purple, and his wrist was wrapped in bruising shaped distinctly like fingers. The knuckles on both hands were split. At least he’d fought back.  _ Of course _ he’d fought back. 

“I’m going to carry you, alright?” Thor slid his arm under Steve’s legs, but the soldier protested. He could hardly move, but he wriggled a bit and shook his head.

“N-no. Can walk. M’alright.”

“Steve...” Thor really wanted to believe it, but he couldn’t be sure until Bruce had a look. Steve was already trying to shove his legs under him, but cried out and gave up, going limp in the king’s arms. He clutched the jackets tighter around himself with his good hand, ducking further into them. Tears pricked his eyes, and Thor wiped them away. “Let me carry you,” he whispered. “We’ll be home soon.”

“Don’t want anybody to see,” Steve moaned quietly, desperately.

Thor picked him up. No more messing around – the snow as coming more heavily now, and Steve was really shivering. “See what?” he asked kindly. “Everyone has already gone inside. As you should be.”  _ I need to get him warm as fast as possible.  _ Everything else could be contemplated when Steve was safely buried under blankets. He walked as fast and even as he could. Steve was clearly in severe pain.  _ What have they done to  _ _ you. _ _ Who are ‘they _ _ ’... _ _ Why? Why did they do this? _

There were hardly any people in the streets. Thor ran past the last few filtering inside and didn’t pay them a care, zipping by with Steve in his arms. The soldier was depending on him to be sure-footed, and so his worry wouldn’t trip him up. Steve was quiet for the whole trip back, shivering and panting. Thor ran smoothly up to the front steps, where Natasha and Clint were waiting for them. The second they spotted the pair pushing through the snow storm, their expressions darkened. Clint spun on his heel and ran off to get the doctor, while Natasha approached, wrapping her hand around Steve’s ankle and following along.

Thor went for his room, and Natasha unlocked the door. “I’ll get some water,” she offered quietly, casting a glance at Steve’s pink cheeks before ducking out.

It was nice and warm in here, out from the snow swirling persistently on the other side of the window. Thor spun a chair with his foot and delicately rested Steve in it. The slightest movement had the soldier crying out in pain, arms folded tightly around his ribs.

Thor grabbed a blanket off the bed and wrapped it over the jackets. He knelt and reached through. “Let me see,” he asked in a quiet voice, peering up at Steve’s half-lidded, teary eyes. “Let me see, Steve.”

Steve coughed, shivering almost too badly to speak but letting his good hand fall limply into his lap so Thor could brush aside the layers and open his shirt. It was already torn down the front, so he ripped it all the way open. Steve’s chest was covered in boot-shaped bruises, heaving sharply as the soldier struggled to breathe. Rage bubbled in his stomach, but he shoved it down before his hands could tremble with it, gently grasping Steve’s thighs instead and kneeling up to worriedly kiss his upper lip. Steve whimpered, bent with the pain. “I’m sorry,” he whined.

“Don’t be,” Thor shook his head. “Don’t be. I’m certain this was not your fault.”

“They were  gonna hurt her,” he croaked, tears dribbling down his face and mixing with the blood still smeared on his skin.

“Shh,” Thor urged. “Breathe.”

Steve tried, gulping air too quickly. Between the bash on his head, his battered chest, and the cold, he was struggling.

“Breathe,” Thor whispered again, placing a warm hand against Steve’s breastbone. That felt in-tact, at least, so he pushed a bit. “Breathe,” he ordered, soft but commanding. 

Steve breathed. He panted, but got himself under control, swallowing and wiping his eyes. He was still shaken, but calmer.

“That’s better,” Thor smiled. “Bruce will be here soon. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

If Steve knew, he couldn’t say. Maybe he really couldn’t tell, his whole body too beaten to pinpoint what was causing him hurt. His hand, for certain, was one of those causes. Thor drew it from under the blanket, impeccably careful as he inspected it.

Steve stared at his fingers, swollen stiff and vibrantly colored. That was his dominant hand, the one he used for painting and drawing. With his wrist in no better shape, he could hardly move his hand. Thor braced it in his own grip. At least everything looked straight, so shouldn’t need setting.

Natasha was back, Bruce and Clint on her heel. She set a basin of warm water on the table and hung back with Clint so the doctor had room to approach. The two generals stared in silence with murder in their eyes as they watched from behind, burning with questions they all wanted answers to.

Bruce rolled up his sleeves and took Steve’s face in his worn hands, smiling kindly at the soldier. Thor took Steve’s good hand and rubbed around the split knuckles with his thumb, watching carefully while the doctor took a cloth and washed the rest of the blood away so he could inspect the leaking injuries better. “That’s one nasty bash,” the doctor remarked calmly. “Shouldn’t need stitches though.” The opening had stopped bleeding.

Steve drooped forward wearily. Thor rose and gently righted him, nudging the layers off and holding him by the shoulders. The doctor brushed the ruined shirt aside and slid his hands up Steve’s ribs, pressing lightly as he went. Steve tightened, his gasp alerting the problem before Bruce verbalized it.

“These are broken,” the doctor announced quietly, palpating a bit farther up. “I’ll have to set them. A bit of pressure will help, Steve.”

Someone had kicked Steve hard enough to break his ribs. Thor thought about that –  _ everyone _ thought about that – while the king helped Bruce get Steve’s shirt off the rest of the way. The doctor picked some cloth bandages off the table and started to wrap them around Steve’s chest. Steve shivered, pawing blinding until Thor took his hand again. Long fingers squeezed his tightly, trembling with pain.

“Natasha, will you bring us some hot water please?” Bruce asked, glancing up at the pair. The warrior nodded and turned on her heel, running off. Clint stood to attention, waiting for a task of his own. The doctor hesitated, but Thor didn’t, digging in his pocket.

He handed over the brown paper package. “Will you separate the glass please?” he asked. “Put the powder in a new jar?”

“Of course,” Clint took the bundle in his hands and ran off too, desperate to be useful.

Steve sagged a bit now that they were alone, releasing any tiny bit of pain he’d managed to conceal. He whimpered again as the wrappings tightened around his ribs, but held himself together with the strength of the warrior he was.

“All done,” Bruce tucked in the edge with a smile, glancing up at Thor suggestively. “Here, let’s get you into bed.”

Thor moved instantly, easing Steve back into his arm and sliding the other under the soldier’s knees. Bruce drew back the blankets and organized the pillows into a neat stack. Thor set Steve as slowly as he could onto the mattress, and together they eased him back against the pillows. He was almost sitting, panting sharply and pale under the flush of exposure.

“Let’s get a look at that arm,” Bruce sat beside him on the bed, and Thor busied himself with Steve’s pants and boots. 

He slid them off as gently as he could, fighting back the tightness in his chest. Steve shivered, but Thor couldn’t wrap him up in warm blankets just yet. No, he had to inspect his legs first. Thor rubbed his hands together to warm them further, sliding them up Steve’s white legs and feeling for damage. The only thing he saw was another hand-shaped bruise around his ankle. At this stage, it wasn’t much of a relief, but he’d take it. He drew up the blankets, sliding around Bruce to get them up to Steve’s belly.

Thor sat carefully on the other side of the bed and pulled Steve’s left arm to his chest, rubbing comfortingly up and down it while Bruce worked. He watched, struggling with fear and anger as the doctor felt along Steve’s long, beautiful fingers.

“These are fractured,” Bruce explained honestly. “They aren’t broken, at least. We’ll let the swelling go down and have another look.” A small victory, that Steve’s perfect fingers hadn’t been damaged worse than that. Fractures would heal, in time.

This must have been some fight. Thor swallowed, watching Steve’s dreary eyes stare down at his bruised hand. Bruce splinted it, slightly less than perfectly clinical as his fondness for Steve shone through. The doctor finished, setting the arm across Steve’s belly and standing by the bed.

“Sleep,” he ordered kindly. “Rest, Steve. Those ribs need it, alright?  _ Bed _ rest.” It was a speech given many times by the poor doctor in their close circle, but this time it was said more burdened than usual.

Steve was already closing his eyes, sunken into the pillows. He looked weak and small, his skin still cold to the touch, and his face only getting worse as the bruises finished blossoming. He was asleep, or maybe just passed out, before Thor had finished tucking the blankets all the way to his chin.

“Do you know what happened?” Bruce asked quietly, stepping back so Thor could come around and kneel by Steve’s side, stroking his hair and kissing his forehead.

“I didn’t ask,” the king admitted quietly. “He mentioned something about protecting a girl, but gave no more explanation than that. Whatever happened clearly shook him deeply. I decided not to press right  away. ”

“Probably for the best,” Bruce agreed, staring down at Steve’s face paling as he warmed up.

“But he’ll be alright?” Thor turned and look up, searching his friend for confirmation.

Bruce  sighed, eyebrows upturned as he regarded his king. “His ribs are pretty badly broken, Thor. But the bones will heal,” he explained. “That’s not what I’m worried about. They’re going to make it tough to breathe deeply. And he spent so long out in the cold... I’m just worried about his lungs. We need to keep a close eye on him. Keep him warm, but watch for fever, alright? Let me know the second he develops one. I’ll give him something for sickness right away, but we need to watch him.”

Thor nodded, saving the information. He could do that, keep watch. He rubbed his thumb up and down Steve’s forehead, clutching his knee through the blankets. 

“He’ll probably be quite weak for a while...” Bruce added quietly. “I want him in bed, with those ribs. Don’t let him get up.”

Thor hadn’t been planning on letting Steve up anyway, but he nodded. “I won’t.”

“Here, Bruce,” Natasha shut the door behind her, carrying a pot of hot water to the table. She left it and hurried to the bed, clasping Steve’s ankle. “Is he alright?” she demanded.

“If he rests, he should be,” Bruce replied hopefully, repeating the information again. “We’ll all need to watch him.”

“It might be a bit of a fight to force him to miss training,” she smiled bitterly, squeezing Thor’s shoulder. “We’ll find who did this,” she darkened, promising him with steely eyes.

“That we will,” Thor agreed. This crime would not go unpunished. But for now, all they could do was gather and watch Steve’s short breaths and lightly creased forehead. The king pressed his warm palm across the soldier’s head.

“Here,” Bruce approached with the pot, setting it on the bedside table. He tipped a little water into a mug to make some tea, passing over the drink.

Thor put the rim to Steve’s lips and tipping it in a little at a time. To his relief, the soldier swallowed in his sleep, taking the medicine until it was all gone. By the time the last drop passed through his lips, his shivering had eased.  _ You’ll be alright. I’ll take care of you. You’ll get better, I know you will. I know you. _

There was an unspoken dread floating heavily in the room, something Clint added to as he returned with a new jar full of blue powder in his hand. He put it on the table and walked over, staring at Steve’s body completely buried under thick blankets, his swollen face fading white.

“No meeting today,” Bruce more ordered than suggested, gathering up his supplies. “It’s well past lunch time anyway.” None of them had eaten. None of them could think to be hungry, either, but they gathered around the table and ate together when Bruce brought back some food. Tony followed the doctor in and shut the door behind him, staring at the bed while he quietly pulled out a chair and took a seat with the others.

Thor stayed by the bed, turning his body a little to face his friends. “This  sort of thing doesn’t happen in  Asgard ,” he said quietly.  _ This shouldn’t have happened. He should have been safe to walk to streets alone. _ His fears had come to pass: Steve had gotten hurt while he wasn’t there to protect him. Thor wouldn’t have imagined this to have happened in his own kingdom, though. Sure, no-one was perfect, but  Asgard was a place of peace. People simply didn’t  _ get _ beat up in alleyways and left alone in the cold. It was known to happen on occasion that someone would drink a bit too much and throw a punch or two, but nobody got seriously hurt.

“As soon as he wakes up and can tell us something, we’ll look for who did this to him,” Natasha nodded, spreading calm sympathy and support over her murderous intent. Clint nodded darkly beside her, arms folded over his chest and his fingers twitching, making no move to hide how enraged he was.

“Do you think it was a targeted attack?” Tony asked.

Thor thought about that for a moment. If someone beyond their circle had figured  out he and Steve were romantically involved, the wrong person would see that as an opportunity. But surely then Steve would have been killed instead of left for dead in the street. He’d have probably been brought back to the castle, too, to make sure his body was found. Then again, the minds of people capable of this sort of thing didn’t exactly make sense.

“Wrong place, wrong time?” Bruce suggested. “We’ll know more when he wakes up. Maybe we can ask around before then. Where did you find him, Thor?”

“A couple of streets down from the pub in the middle of the city,” he explained, pushing the back of his hand into Steve’s cheek. So far, it was still just cold. Steve was still shivering under the blankets, but he was breathing a little better, and his lips weren’t blue. His ears were pink though, so Thor rubbed his hands together and cupped them. He just needed to be close. Remembering where he was, he finished the thought, glancing back at his friends. “The bartender said he’d gone to escort a girl home after a scuffle. I didn’t stay to ask questions.”

Clint was on his feet. “I’ll go ask around,” he announced, striding for the door with deadly-smooth strides. Natasha nodded and followed, and the door closed silently behind them. Next was Tony, who stood without a word, his eyes focused on something in the distance as he rushed out as if he’d forgotten something.

Bruce sighed and walked over, squeezing Thor’s shoulder. “It’ll be alright,” he promised softly. “He’s pulled through worse.”

Thor huffed humorlessly around a sad smile. “That he has. I fear the timing may be worse, though. I may need your help to focus on my duties as is needed.”

“We’re all here to help ease the burden,” the doctor patted him supportively. “Steve won’t be alone for a second. We’ll take care of him, and we’ll take care of you, too.”

“As you’ve been doing for years,” Thor’s smile was warmer this time as he looked up at his friend. “Asgard is lucky to have you.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Bruce smiled. “You take care of us, too.”

_ That’s my job, and my privilege.  _ Thor would spread his arms and draw as many people as he could under their shelter. He would hold his friends close and look after them. And when his own strength wasn’t enough, they would rise up beneath him and make sure he had more than enough to get through.

\--

Tony wasn’t gone long. He slipped back in just as Bruce was leaving and hurried to the bed, a blanket folded in his arms. “This’ll help,” he offered quietly. “I put it over the fireplace.”

Thor rubbed the blanket with his hand and was pleased to find it was very warm. He folded the layers off Steve and helped Tony spread out the heated blanket before folding the others right back. “Thank you,” he smiled at the inventor.

“He’ll be okay,” Tony nodded firmly.

Thor smiled sadly back, trying to let the words give him hope. It was hard, and it wouldn’t get much easier until Steve started to show significant signs of improvement, until he was awake. At least right now he was resting like he should, and though his forehead was still creased with pain and his breathing was barely passable, he was at least somewhat free of suffering.

The inventor left reluctantly, wringing his hands with a nervous need to be useful that Thor recognized right away. He looked back at his own hands, moving uselessly over Steve’s body to squeeze his leg, stroke his face. There was nothing he could do but wait, and watch. Thor leaned back in his chair and rubbed his face with both hands, trying to drag his mind back to war. As king, it was his duty to think of the whole kingdom, not just his closest friends. Not just his lover.  _ I suppose that’s what you are.  _ Thor rested his hands against his lips and leaned onto his elbows, watching Steve’s motionless eyelashes.

He couldn’t just sit here like this. Thor stood up and walked to his drawers, pulling out some of his mother’s old texts and notebooks. He found Loki’s old study books too and piled everything on the bedside table, going back for paper. If he was going to stay, he might as well try to be useful. With a thud and a ruffle of pages, he set a fat old magic textbook in his lap and opened it at random. Symbols overwhelmed him immediately, and he stared blankly at them, trying to remember any shred of his mother’s lessons. He picked out the first sentence at the top of the page and grit his teeth, spreading some paper next to it and painstakingly copying over the shapes. This couldn’t be so hard, right? He’d learned English just fine, could read and write that.  Surely he could learn another language, the one his native tongue was based on.

Asgard’s original native tongue was very, very old, and the comparison wasn’t exactly straight-forward. Thor squinted at the printed text, flipping through page by page in search of something familiar. Just one word, or even a letter would be something to work with. Perhaps he should start at the beginning. Shaking his head, Thor flipped back to the beginning and tried to copy a few more words in the hopes that it would jog his memory.

It didn’t. It did nothing. Finally, he threw down the book in frustration, and it made a heavy thud as it smacked the floor between his feet. The charcoal clattered and cracked into two pieces, rolling into the chair leg. Thor dropped his face into his hands, defeated.

After a few pants, he managed to breathe away his anger, lifting his head and leaning backward in the chair. Steve would know what to do. Steve was analytical and observant. He would have ideas on how to counter black magic. He’d know where to start looking, at least. “Oh Steve...” Thor sighed.  _ What happened? Why has this happened to you, of all people? You don’t deserve this. If only I was there...  _ If only anyone had been there, they could have helped. Natasha would have protected him. So would Clint, or any of the other soldiers. Tony, too.

And how was he supposed to have known a walk in his own city would turn out to be dangerous? It shouldn’t have been. Steve should have been safe to wander alone. 

“Thor...?” Thor looked up to see Bruce entering, calm sympathy and concern on his kind features. “Is everything alright?”

Thor sighed and bent over to pick up what he’d dropped, setting them on the bedside table. “I have no idea what to do, Bruce,” he admitted quietly.

“Well, we might have a bit more information for you,” the doctor offered with a small smile, approaching the chair. “Go. The others are waiting. I’ll sit with him.”

Thor didn’t want to leave, but he had to. He couldn’t do anything sitting here, for Steve or his kingdom, but maybe he could do something if he left to hear these updates. “Alright,” he submitted, rising reluctantly from his chair. “You’ll come get me if something changes?”

“Of course,” Bruce smiled.

Thor squeezed his eyes shut and leaned forward, planting a tender kiss into Steve’s forehead before pushing his against it and sighing.  _ Get better. I need you to get better.  _ But Bruce was right: Steve  _ had _ survived worse, and come back swinging. There was some warmth to the soldier’s skin now, the pinkness from being outside faded away. Steve was just pale now, whiter than usual, all the bruises on his face fully developed. Thor kissed his full lower lip, working around the split and keeping it short. Then he straightened and gathered himself, turning away. There was work to be done.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, thank you all for your feedback! It means a lot to me <33 I'm very interested to see your thoughts as the story ramps up again! There's some good stuff on the way, I promise! We're getting to the content I knew I wanted to include, before I had any of the middle stuff worked out.
> 
> Buckle up.

“This isn’t something we can leave. It needs to be done while we can still take them by surprise.”

“I know.... I know.”

“He’ll be fine for a few days. I’ll watch him.”

“Me too. I’ll stay too.”

A sigh. “I know you will... I really don’t want to leave him.”

“I know, Thor. But he’ll be alright. He’ll be a bit better by the time you come back, at least.”

The discussion went on. They were working out the details for some sort of plan.  _ The HYDRA base...  _ Steve had promised he’d come. Everyone sounded determined, perhaps a little anxious. Anger, he heard anger, too. They were discussing this without him. Steve fought his eyes open and tried to sit, but he was sinking into the pillows, and would be there to stay: his chest felt like it had been crushed. He shivered and tried again to sit up, but it hurt too much, and an incriminating whimper escaped. The blurry cluster of people just beyond the foot of the bed all turned.

Thor got there first, emerging from the haze, crouching down and wrapping his head in a hug. Something wet slid off his forehead and onto his shoulder. Thor drew back and picked up the cloth, replacing it. He clutched Steve’s face and kissed it, kissed the corner of his mouth instead of his lips, fervent and needy.

Steve shivered, even under the weight of at least three blankets. “Plannin’ without me?” he rasped, a cough soon to follow. It shook his chest, and any little movement was agony. Thor’s hand steadied him, planting against his breastbone.

The fit ceased, and Natasha appeared over Thor’s shoulder, handing the king a cup of water. The rim rested to Steve’s lips, and he drank. Natasha smiled sadly down at him. “We’re going to take down the next HYDRA base, Steve,” she admitted. “You just rest, and don’t worry about it, alright?”

Thor’s hand reached under the blankets to squeeze his. “Bruce and Tony are going to stay with you. We’ll only be gone a couple of days.” The king looked burdened and apologetic, frowning with guilt. “I would stay, but I have to do this.”

“I know,” Steve replied. “I’ll be okay. Be right here when you get back.”

“Get plenty of rest,” Thor whispered, leaning forward and wrapping his arm across Steve’s shoulders, burying his face in the soldier’s neck. Steve leaned his head against Thor’s hair. “Stay in bed, and let them take care of you, alright?”

“I will.” Thor was already partly dressed for battle, Clint and Natasha too – they were headed out right away, whatever time of day it was. By the dim light in the room, probably night. Steve turned his head and planted a kiss into the top of Thor’s head. “Be safe.”

“I was worried,” Thor huffed, measuring his grip but clearly yearning to squeeze harder. “I was so worried.”

“I know...” Steve whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” Thor lifted up, smoothing out the blankets, pushing the cloth up Steve’s forehead and kissing the damp skin beneath. He set it back and brushed his bangs aside. “I have to go. I have to.”

“I know,” Steve smiled. “It’s alright. Don’t worry about me.”

“Don’t worry about me, either,” Thor smiled back.

Steve nodded his returned promise. He didn’t want Thor to go; he wanted the king here, to look after him. He could hardly move, and doing anything but lying completely still and silent was taking the breath out of him. Thor would fuss, but that was alright. He didn’t mind it that much. He could be honest with his pain in front of  Thor. But with the others? Steve wasn’t sure he wanted them to see him like this.  _ See me for what I really am... Weak, and useless.  _ The chill in his body and the heat in his face meant that his exposure and broken ribs had already spelled out sickness. That cough was a telling sign of an infection he’d done battle with before.  _ I’ll be alright. _ If he stayed in bed and took his medicine, he should be  recover . There was no shortage of anything here in  Asgard , unlike in his village. No shortage of herbs, or food, or warm blankets.

No shortage of people to look after him, either.

His shield was on a chair by the bed, placed deliberately where he could see it – a promise that it was still his, that he was still part of this fight. Steve tried to lever himself out of the pillows a bit, but he was too weak and hurting. Thor was still at his side, and stilled him, easily sliding his body a bit higher and adjusting the pillows behind him. “Don’t move,” the king admonished gently.

“You’ve got two broken ribs, and countless more bruised,” Bruce chipped in clinically from the foot of the bed, but even he looked troubled.

Frantically, before they left and it was too late, Steve clumsily wrestled his left arm from under the blankets, pointing at his shield. “Take it,” he whispered.

Thor took his wrist and pressed his arm into his belly. “Steve...”

“Take it,” he repeated, a bit more firmly this time. “Please.  Gotta protect you guys somehow, if I can’t come.”

Clint squeezed his ankle. “We’ll miss you out there,” he nodded. “Rest up champ. We’ll be back to fuss over you before you know it.”

Natasha neatly nudged Thor aside so she could come in, delicately taking his face in her hands and kissing his cheek. “We can talk when we get back,” she promised softly. “You can tell us what happened, and who did this to  you. ”  _ And they will pay. _

Nobody said that, but he was pretty sure everyone was thinking it if their expressions were anything to go by. Even Bruce’s eyes were unusually grim with a calmly-simmering rage Steve had never seen the doctor wear before. It was a little terrifying, almost as terrifying as Natasha’s sweet smile hiding promises he knew quite well she could make good on.

Thor picked up the shield somewhat reluctantly, but gave Steve a brave smile and didn’t argue. 

It was a shame not to be able to come. Steve watched his friends go and gave them a small wave and an encouraging smile. He hoped they wouldn’t worry, that they would focus on the fight. He knew they would worry at least a little. Steve would worry about them, too. They were family.

“I’ll get you something to eat,” Bruce offered when everything was quiet again, and it was just the three of them. “It’s quite late. You slept through dinner.” Steve had to say he wasn’t that hungry, but he nodded anyway. The doctor walked out in search of something.

Tony sat down in the chair beside him, arms folded over his chest and his expression hiding just as much murder as everyone else behind whatever masks he was trying to plaster over it. The inventor wasn’t doing so well at hiding his anger, and Steve had to admit he was a little touched that the older man was so angry for him. “How you  feelin ’?” Tony asked. “ Gotta say, you look like shit.”

“Should see the other guy,” Steve smiled weakly.  _ Three other guys... _ “Okay.” Not okay. He felt heavy, and everything hurt just lying here, and hurt more if he tried to move. Despite so many being piled on him, the blankets weren’t enough to get rid of his fevered shiver. The heat in his face was uncomfortable. His chest felt tight, and he could hardly breathe between the cough rattling in his lungs and his ribs straining with every inhale.

Tony snorted with disbelief, but didn’t argue. “We will see the other guy, when we catch him, and believe me we will. You missed Natasha’s murder speech. It was terrifying.”

Steve smiled a bit wider at that. “Maybe she’ll reenact it for me.”

“I’d offer to do a rendition, but I don’t think I could get her stare right,” Tony shook his head.

No, nobody could glare quite like she could. Steve would agree with that.

“Hooray for castle privileges,” Bruce appeared in the door, a bowl and spoon in his hands. He nudged the door shut with his foot and walked over. “Good thing it’s not hard to get a hold of something to eat no matter what time it is.”

Tony reached out his hands and took the bowl, stirring it a bit with the spoon. Steve didn’t need to try to hold the spoon himself to know he wouldn’t be able, not in his condition. He was smart enough not to test his tremor, even if the need to be self-sufficient was screaming that he could feed himself just fine. Not soup, he couldn’t.  So he fell silent and opened his mouth to let the inventor spoon some vegetables and broth into it. It was cool enough not to bother his chest as the liquid passed through it, and the flavor was pleasant as always. Among many things, Asgardians knew how to make good food.

“It’s past midnight,” Bruce explained calmly, walking back to the table to pour some hot water into a cup and mix herbs into it. “The fever developed a couple hours ago. It looks like you’re developing a lung infection too, so we’ll have to keep an eye on that. I don’t know if you remember me telling you to stay in bed earlier, but I don’t want you up and about for a few days at least. We’ll see how you’re doing by then, and reassess.”

These were familiar orders. Steve had spent plenty of time languishing in sickness, too ill to leave his bed. He didn’t fancy doing it again, but it was something he’d known would happen eventually. It might as well be now, though it wouldn’t be enjoyable to have his wounds to content with on top. The girl was safe, though. That was all that mattered. She’d gotten away, and this was a small price to pay to make sure those men hadn’t done to her what they’d been trying to do.

_ HYDRA men... They’re still in the city.  _ "Bruce...?” The doctor looked up. Steve swallowed and licked his dry lips. “I... HYDRA is in the city.”

Both men put the pieces together. Tony darkened, bringing another spoonful of soup to the soldier’s mouth. “HYDRA beat the shit out of you,” he translated  venomously .

Bruce paled, slowing his stirring. “Are you sure?” he asked.

Steve nodded and swallowed. “ Kinda hard to mistake ‘hail HYDRA’ for anything else.”  _ Even when you’re getting your head beaten in. _

The doctor stopped stirring and walked over, his expression grim. Tony leaned back so Bruce could help Steve drink the concoction. As medicine went, it wasn’t too bad on the tongue. The aromas alone helped loosen his chest. Nobody said anything for a few moments while Steve drank, all of them deep in thought about what to do.

“Did they ask you any questions?” Bruce asked finally, stepping back so Tony could resume with the soup. “Were they interrogating you?”

“Not at all,” Steve replied, and his friends immediately sighed with relief. “They were just drunk. I was just sitting down for a drink, and they smashed a glass, so the bartender kicked them out. Nearly took a girl’s eye out, so I offered to walk her home, but they bumped into us on the way, and they...”

“You fought them off,” Tony finished, respect mixing in with the anger when he made eye-contact. “Made sure she got away.”

That was about it. Steve nodded. “They were  gonna do worse to her than what they did to me,” he explained quietly, to justify his choices. This had been entirely necessary. He needed them to know that he hadn’t thrown himself needlessly into a fight he couldn’t win.

They didn’t argue. “Do you remember what they looked like?” Bruce asked. “I can send some soldiers out to look. HYDRA spies wandering around the city is the last thing we need, let alone drunk ones.”

Steve frowned, trying to remember. His memory of the whole thing was a bit foggy, from leaving the bar to falling asleep here. He tried to remember back to when he’d first sat down at the counter. The men’s faces weren’t too distinct. “They were pretty average height,” he tried. “And they were all pretty strong, but one of them was a bit bigger than the others, maybe six feet. They were wearing dark colors. Oh, and one of them has a broken nose.” That, he was quite proud of, and his friends gave him small nods of approval. Tony grinned as he held up the next spoonful, and Bruce smile at the paper he’d found to write down everything.

Steve would have offered to draw their faces, and even with his tremor he’d have managed to replicate their likenesses well enough to spot from a lineup, but that was with his dominant hand. Right now, he doubted he’d be able to hold a pencil, even if his right hand weren’t hurt. He tried to move his fingers experimentally, but they were all splinted together. He didn’t dare ask Bruce about it, not yet.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Bruce nodded. “If we catch them, maybe someone can get some information out of them before the others come back. I doubt they’d survive long.”

Three HYDRA agents held prisoner by  Asgard didn’t have good odds to begin with, but HYDRA agents who had injured a close member of the court? A friend to two of the deadliest warriors in the kingdom, and a lover to the king himself? Steve was pretty sure that even Bruce had it in him to slip some deadly and unpleasant substances into food and drink. Tony, too, looked ready to pick up a weapon and storm into the city to look for the miscreants himself.

Steve closed his eyes and smiled. “Thanks guys,” he whispered. He didn’t want revenge, but the sentiment alone was enough, that his safety meant so much to them.

“Get some rest, Steve,” Bruce agreed softly. “I’ll be back soon to check on you.” The door shut behind the doctor.

It was late. He really should sleep. Steve cracked his eyes open and accepted the last mouthful of soup. Tony put down the empty bowl and stood up, gently taking his wrist in soot-stained hands. The inventor lifted the blankets and rested Steve’s arm across his stomach next to the other, tucking him in as carefully as he could. “I’ll be right here if you need me,” he offered kindly.

“Thanks,” Steve murmured in reply, and shut his eyes. Sleep took him almost instantly.

\--

He awoke to the sound of birds chirping distantly on the other side of the closed window, muffled by the thick curtains pulled across it. For a moment he thought the figure at his bedside was Thor, and his heart soared with relief – Thor was back, the fight was over!

It wasn’t Thor. It was only the next  morning. Instead, it was Tony who occupied the chair, sketching some designs on a piece of paper. Bruce was by the dining table. His outline was blurry, but he was stirring something. Medicine, probably. Steve had a feeling he was going to be drinking a fair bit in the next couple of weeks at least.

Bruce glanced up and abandoned whatever he was making when he noticed Steve was awake. “Good morning,” he smiled as he approached. Tony was faster to the water, dropping what he was doing and pouring some out. He lifted Steve’s head from where it had sunk into the pillows and slowly tipped the liquid into his mouth.

He’d expected to feel a little better, but he didn’t. The pain wasn’t so sharp, still quite prevalent but settled to a manageable level. Whatever sickness had wormed its way into his lungs, however, was making a nest in his chest. Moving still hurt, but it pulled out a cough, too, and that hurt even more.  So he didn’t move. Steve let Bruce and Tony lever him sitting so he could be propped up again. They were gentle with him, and he did his best not to give away how much even that hurt his ribs.

Tony pulled the cloth off his forehead and wiped his face while Bruce went to finished the medicine he was working on. The doctor brought over a table tray of food and set it across Steve’s lap. “I’ll leave you to it,” he smiled. “I have some things to do, but I’ll be back by lunch.”

“Take your time,” Tony waved a hand. “We’ll be fine here for a while.” He wet the cloth and wrung it out, pressing it into Steve’s forehead. 

The doctor left, and Steve looked down at his breakfast. Slices of bread and chopped fruit, he could manage. He took the cup of medicine first, sipping at the tea. “What are you working on?” he asked Tony, peering over at the drawings in the inventor’s lap.

Tony proudly held them up. “Armor,” he grinned. “ Gotta finish up the weapons first, but I might as well work on these designs while I’m sat here.”

“You don’t have to stay,” Steve offered quietly.

With a shrug, Tony laid the paper back across his lap. “I don’t have to do anything,” he replied easily, “but I want to. Figured you could use the company.”

Without much to do, Steve really could. Even if he tried, he doubted he’d be able to sleep away the whole day. Someone to talk to for an hour or two would be nice. It was about all he could do. “Thanks,” Steve smiled, picking up some bread. Feeling sick always screwed with his appetite, but the food was delicious enough that he at least sort of enjoyed it.

His meal kept him occupied for a little while. He ate in silence while Tony sketched, wondering where the others were. Still traveling toward the HYDRA camp, he’d imagine. It was a couple days away. He hoped the fight went well, that everyone would come home safe. Steve shut his eyes as he chewed his bread, imagining Thor back in bed beside him. They would talk for hours, Thor would play his mandola, maybe even give him a massage wherever he wasn’t too bruised, and the days would melt away. However long it took him to recover wouldn’t matter, because he’d be spending those days with Thor.

That was of course if the war didn’t get in the way. It was a selfish thought, but Steve couldn’t help feel slightly bitter that the fighting just kept on, and on. Perhaps it was a good thing, to have something to focus on. It was keeping everyone busy, instead of hovering around his bed. That would quickly become stifling, even though they meant well. It was a shame that even as war continued to probe its barbed fingers into his life, that now he couldn’t at least help. Picking up his shield and joining in had given him so much purpose and pride, and now he was right back to square one.

Maybe not. Steve finished the last slice of apple and frowned at the stacks of books on the bedside table by the bowl and jug. “What are those?” he asked curiously. Thor didn’t usually keep books by the bed, and they looked like his, the ones generally stored in a drawer somewhere.

Tony looked up and followed his gaze, frowning too. He slid the top one off the pile and opened it. “Thor was looking through these yesterday evening,” he shrugged and handed it over. “Magic, I think.”

They’d been discussing ways to counter whatever black magic HYDRA were trying to conjure, had been doing so for a while now.  Of course Thor would eventually find his way back to his mother’s old texts. Steve took the book and set it in his lap, leaning it against the tray table and flipping it open. It was written in a language he had never seen before.

“Whatever he was looking for, he wasn’t having much luck,” Tony admitted. 

Steve set his jaw and flipped through the pages. “Would you pass me some more?” he asked. The language was totally unfamiliar, but there were so many books here that surely one had to hold something useful. He had the time to look.

“Sure,” Tony agreed, standing up and leaving the paper on the chair. He moved the empty dinnerware out of the way and laid a few books on the tray. Then he walked around the bed and set the rest on the blankets, crawling up to sit beside Steve. “I’ll help.”

Gratefully, Steve nodded, swapping his book for another. This one was full of beautiful, swirling handwriting – Thor's  mother’s .

“You’ve had sex on this bed, right?” Tony was peering over with narrowed eyes, glancing at the blankets under him.

Steve glanced up and focused on his books again. “Don’t worry, the blankets usually end up on the floor,” he replied casually. Tony’s expression made him feel a tiny, tiny bit better, and he smiled at the pages of the notebook.

Sex with Thor would really, really help right about now, even though he knew it would be much too hard on his battered body. He could barely handle it before this whole disaster; sex would probably kill him in his current condition.  _ What a way to go...  _ It was probably going to be a while before he and Thor could enjoy that level of intimacy.

They would get by. Cuddling was just as good. Steve just wanted Thor to hold him, to have the king’s bulk wrap so far around him it framed his world. He wanted a hot bath, hot kisses on the back of his neck.

For now, studying. Steve read every word of Frigga’s gorgeous writing. Some of it was written in ancient Asgardian characters, but what he was able to read was insightful and clear. It wouldn’t help them with their problem, though.  _ If I have to spent the next few days, or even weeks, learning ancient Asgardian symbols, and learning magic, just for one scrape of information, that’s what I’ll do. _

\--

He and Tony worked hard for hours, flipping through books as fast as they could read them. Tony was a fast reader, his eyes darting across the pages at lightning speed. But when Steve set down his third notebook full of writing (one of Loki’s this time – Thor's brother was blunt and direct in his descriptions, which helped), closing the cover and rubbing at the headache between his eyes, Tony dropped his book too and came around.

The inventor lifted the cloth off Steve’s forehead and pressed the back of his hand into the skin. “I think you should rest,” he suggested quietly, wetting the cloth and replacing it. “Nap until Bruce gets here. I’ll keep reading. Here,” he poured some water and offered it. Steve nodded and took the cup, sipping until it was gone. A nap wouldn’t go amiss. Just a short one.

\--

Bucky had always looked after him. Even on the sunniest days, he’d preferred to stay indoors with Steve while he was ill. It had taken some of the burden off his mother, too, so she could still work and rest when  her son was unwell.

A bad fight usually led to a cough or a sniffle. Steve didn’t start fights, never had, but he’d never been afraid to storm into one at someone’s defense. He’d always stood up for what he believed in. He’d never run.

“Please Stevie, one of these days... Just run. No shame in  runnin ’,” Bucky had pleaded with him a couple of times, but had quickly given up.

People needed to stand their ground and speak their mind when they could, because not everyone was able. Steve had always been loud, no matter if he couldn’t back himself up with his fists. It was better than staying quiet. A bruise or two, he could live with. Usually, his opposers got bored after the first few hits. Steve was a persistent fighter, but he didn’t have the strength to keep up with the gang of larger boys he usually ended up dueling. Bucky was generally there to keep him from taking serious damage anyway.

Bucky hadn’t been there this time. Steve lay in the snow bleeding, waiting. HYDRA’s soldier loomed over him, throwing glass mugs that shattered and spilled drink all over him. They picked him up, threw him into the wall, crushed his chest with their punches that hit like boulders.

He was freezing, shivering so badly he couldn’t make a fist. His fingers were broken. He’d never hold a pencil again. What was he supposed to do, if he couldn’t help, couldn’t fight? What could he do but wither away to nothing?

He was almost nothing anyway.

Bucky was coming, dragging himself through the snow, his eyes hollow and colorless. His shirt hung off his shoulders and he was hunched, staggering, staring into nothing. He walked like it was his only purpose, walked toward Steve and grabbed the first HYDRA soldier by the shoulder. Even as a corpse Bucky was still protecting him. He flung the soldier aside, life flaring in his eyes and restoring their color. Bucky was  _ alive, _ filling into his shirt and beating aside the other men. Then he bent down, shining with his wide, charming smile as usual, grabbing the front of Steve’s shirt and setting him on his feet.

“Come on, pal, war’s not over yet,” Bucky brushed him off and clasped his shoulders. “Let’s go.”

They fell, Steve backward and Bucky toward him. They fell through the snow into a raging fire.

Everything was burning. Steve panted, already drenched in sweat. He was shivering. He didn’t know why.

“My sweet boy.” His mother was there, dragging her cool hands across his forehead, running them down his cheeks, down his neck and arms. She took his hands and smiled, pulling him into her arms. He sagged into her, and she held him up. She’d always held him up, even though she was barely taller than he was, and just as thin. She looked healthy now, like she’d been before she’d gotten sick. Her hugs had always been strong, but this one was stronger. It would hold him until the end of time.

Bucky gripped him from behind, hugging tightly. “Easy, Stevie.”

Steve was crying into his mother’s shoulder. They knelt together, huddled in a tight bundle on the embers at their feet. The lava river bubbled beside them, something stirring beneath the surface. They ignored it. It didn’t matter. The flames all around didn’t matter. The dark shapes of monsters moving in the distance didn’t matter.

Sarah stroked him with her cool hands, rubbing up and down his neck. It was his relief in this sweltering, hellish heat. She kept him above  it. “Shh,” she rocked him. “It’ll be alright, Steve.”

“It’ll be alright, Steve.” Someone was saying it, very close to his ear, so close it tickled. Not Bucky. Bucky didn’t have a beard. “Breathe, Steve. You’ll be alright.”

Someone put a cup to his lips, and the liquid that poured into his mouth was deliciously cold.  More cold on his face and neck, but not his mother’s hands. The warm weight to his back wasn’t Bucky.

“I’ve got  you. Hang on to me. I won’t let you slip.” A voice he had to obey, one he respected.

“Here,” someone else offered urgently. “He's barely breathing.” The hands holding him moved but held on, and another pair reached in, reaching around his ribs. Pain flared through his chest and he must have gasped, because someone apologized under their breath. More hands were squeezing his ankles.

The pressure loosened around his chest, taking the support away from his damaged rib cage. A hand planted in the middle of his chest, rough and warm. “Deep breaths, Steve, deep as you can.” That little bit of pressure helped, and he tried. It hurt. It  _ really _ hurt, and his chest felt tight. It felt clogged. One breath and he was coughing so hard he swore he must have broken another rib by the pain alone.

The arm under his shoulders shifted, keeping him sitting, keeping his head rested against a strong shoulder. A powerful heart beat thrummed against his ear, soothing and reassuring. He tried to breathe normally, shivering with pain and fever. More water trickled into his mouth.

“Let’s try again. Easy Steve. Nice and slow, okay?” The hand found its way back, and Steve obeyed, doing his best to draw the deepest breaths he could. Another hand rubbed his back.

“Good, Steve.” A woman’s voice, deep and gentle. A smaller hand rubbed up and down his ankle. “Good. Just like that.”

“Few more. Just a few more, Steve.”

He could do that, just a few more. No-one spoke as he drew a few more breaths, but the room was far from quiet. His breaths were rattling, and that  heartbeat in his ear was unwavering. His own ears were rushing with blood and his skull was ringing.

People started talking again, but he couldn’t hear them anymore. The hands adjusted around him, and the tightness around his chest returned. Cool lips surrounded by bristle pushed into his forehead, quickly followed by a cold, damp cloth that soothed the heat. It was swiped over his face, and all down every inch of exposed skin, carrying away the fever.

He would be alright. He’d been alright before, with fewer people to fight for him.

\--

It could have been  days, it could have been hours. Everything hurt, and nothing was totally clear. People moved in and out of the haze, and he was certain he imagined some of them. Their touches were real though. Maybe it wasn’t his mother cradling his head so gently, helping him drink and humming songs to him, but those small, soft fingers certainly felt like hers at times. 

There were lots of people coming and going, and they all reminded him of the family part of him deep-down knew was dead. The people constantly at his side were kind and generous, giving him their time and their aid when his own body failed him. He could barely get his eyes open, and when he did, they couldn’t show him much of anything more than shadows and mirages.

The man with the long blonde hair he often mistook for his mother, when he could manage to look around a bit. The man was there the most, but that was alright – he was the one Steve  _ wanted _ nearby the most. The man made him feel good, respected him as a warrior and a friend. The others did too, but it was different with this man.

The man kissed him, picked him up like he was weightless and balanced him perfectly in his lap.

Steve slept. It was almost all he could do. Sometimes he could hardly breathe through the heat and the pain and the suffocation of fluid-filled lungs. He coughed himself unconscious, coming  round just to do it again.

All of it felt like a dream. Not all of it could have been real, surely. Some of it surely was, though, because Steve felt a weight beside him the  second he managed to climb toward some level of functional consciousness. And when he turned his head, wincing at his neck stiff with headache, he saw Thor asleep beside him. 

Maybe this was part of the dream. Steve blinked to clear his vision, his eyelashes brushing the cloth pulled low across his forehead. The bed felt soft beneath him, and his ribs ached. Yes, this was real.

There was sunlight filtering through the curtains. Morning or evening...? It was bright and piercing, from a sun low in the sky. Steve licked his dry lips and tried to speak, but he couldn’t. He moved his left arm and winced as his joints creaked and his muscles protested. But he got his arm over, and nudged Thor with his hand. He needed to know everyone was okay, that they’d all come back safely from the raid. He needed Thor’s arms around him, and his kisses  anywhere he could get them.

Thor stirred, his bare back dancing as he flexed and started to roll over and sit. He groaned and yawned, and it felt like they’d been apart for years.  _ Come here and hold me. Let me touch you, and make sure you’re really here. _

Of course that was really Thor: who else could that have been at his side for the last... day? Two days? Maybe just an hour. Steve really didn’t know. 

Just as beautiful and powerful as always, Thor shook himself awake like a dog, his hair swirling around his head. He yawned and rubbed sleep from his eyes. When the blankets slid off his shoulders, all his glorious body was exposed, the top half cast in sunlight. And to Steve’s relief, all of it was just as smooth and unblemished as always. There wasn’t a mark on it.

He was okay.

But he looked tired. Thor stared down with weary blue eyes, blinking slowly as he realized that Steve was looking back at him. “Steve,” he breathed, surging forward and taking his hand. “Steve, thank the gods.” The king laced their fingers and squeezed, bending down and planting a hard kiss into Steve’s cheek, squeezing his eyes shut.

Steve could barely squeeze back. He felt damp all over, the kind produced from battling a serious fever.

“Here,” Thor drew back, scrambling away before Steve could stop him. 

The king got dressed as fast as he possibly could, his hair wild and his shirt rumpled. He didn’t care. He ran around the bed to pour some water. Once again, Steve found himself unable to grasp the cup with his hand, or attempt to sit himself up to drink. Thor helped him, pushing one strong arm under him and propping him high enough.

“You’re back,” Steve finally managed to croak, licking his lips to wet them now that his tongue wasn’t just as dry.

“That I am,” Thor smiled sorrowfully, putting down the cup and pulling the chair as close as it would go. He perched on it and leaned in close, just as desperate for the contact. “We just got back yesterday.”

“How long were you gone...?” Steve asked. “Is everyone okay...?”

“Everyone is well,” Thor confirmed. “We’ve been gone four days, and you’ve been very ill for five.”

He’d lost _ five days _ . He certainly felt it. Steve swallowed. “Sorry,” he whispered, because it was the best he could do.

Thor shook his head. “No. It’s not your fault. How do you feel?”

Limp. Useless. “Sore,” Steve whispered. “Missed you.”

“Bruce tells me the last you were awake was midmorning, the day after we left,” Thor gave a smile that was burdened, but trying to lighten the mood. “ So you haven’t missed me long.”

Steve supposed that was true. He smiled in return. “Get the job done?”

Thor nodded, a flash of something darker passing across his expression before disappearing again. “It is done,” he agreed. “We destroyed the powder and many of the magic artifacts, and brought back what evidence we could. Some of the soldiers escaped, but we killed most of them, and freed all the prisoners. They’re being put up by some people around the city.”

That was good to hear. Steve sighed, wishing he’d been there to help. “I’m glad.”

“We missed you on the battlefield,” Thor pulled the cloth off his forehead and refreshed it, but not before pushing the back of his hand against Steve’s head. “I’ll get you something to eat. Stay here, alright? I won’t be long.”

Steve wasn’t going anywhere.

Thor really wasn’t long. “Soup for breakfast,” he offered apologetically, bringing the bowl over and sitting. “Try this for now. I can get you something else later if you feel up to it.”

No, this would be just fine to start with. Thor pushed the pillows up behind him and put the bowl to his lips so he could sip at the broth.  _ I’m going to be really sick of soup when the week is over...  _ Steve huffed to himself. But the soup was good. It would take a quite a lot to get tired of anything here in  Asgard . Especially since he’d grown up skipping a meal or two when things had been tight, and always having an  abundance of food was a blessing he couldn’t turn down.

“Bruce told me what happened,” Thor’s expression was back to fighting between concern and anger. “About the HYDRA soldiers...”

Steve nodded and licked broth off his lips. “Yeah...”

“Some soldiers apprehended them,” Thor tried to be reassuring, but his expression was too shadowed. “Natasha is with them now.  Apparently they’d caused a fair bit distress throughout their stay. Theft, some harassment... And they made no effort to cover their tracks. Seems Asgardian liquor was their betrayer. I wonder would we have caught them soon enough had our national drink not taken them by surprise.” The king was trying for a joke again, but it fell flat – they both knew that if those so-called spies hadn’t been drunk, Steve wouldn’t have gotten hurt.

“Did they know anything?” Steve focused on the good. Maybe these men held the key to HYDRA’s plan, or at least part of it.

“When Natasha is finished with them, we shall find out,” Thor glared murderously.

Steve finished the soup, and he could see Thor’s relief clear in his eyes when the bowl was emptied. These past few days had really knocked the wind from his sails, but he was feeling a little better. Like he was improving instead of getting worse. That was always a good feeling.

“Do you want a bath?” Thor asked, stroking his damp cheek, and Steve quickly nodded. He felt sticky and horrible, and a bath would be amazing, a dream come true. He nodded, unable to display his yearning for one other than by the want in his eyes. The king wasted no time obliging.

Thor carried in the full basin, stripping down first and walking over. “Your friends will be happy to see you,” he smiled, folding back the blankets and searching for the end of the bandage wrapped around Steve’s chest. “You gave us a scare when we came back. I suspect the others are sleeping... Your fever broke late last night, and we all stayed up until it did.”

Steve smiled. “Thanks.”

“It’s our pleasure,” Thor smiled back, and though there was terror hiding behind it, he looked pleased. Tenderly, the king clasped his face and kissed his lips, maintaining a slow rhythm and pulling away often enough for Steve to pant through their connection. He wanted something fiercer, and so did Thor, but the soldier was in no shape for that, so this would have to make due.

His body was splotched with deep yellows and browns, but at least his chest didn’t feel so fragile anymore, and his ribs didn’t grind together with every breath. Thor unwrapped his hand, and it too was still pretty bruised. All his fingers were lined up the way they should be, to his relief. But he could feel them shaking as Thor pressed his arm against his chest. It was going to be a long time before he could hold a paint brush. Thor’s painting would have wait.

“The Solstice...” he murmured as Thor slid his arms under his frail body and lifted him off the bed.

“Postponed,” Thor replied, walking slowly to the bath. “Bruce took care of it when you fell ill. If you feel up to it, he suggested we could hold it a week from now instead.”

“Don’t wait for me,” Steve shook his head.  _ I won’t be able to finished the painting by then...  _ “If you can’t bear to party without me, we can always have another smaller celebration in here.” That might be nice. Besides, what about the citizens? It was their celebration, too. It wouldn’t be fair to hold it off just for Steve.

“That might be nice,” Thor agreed, stepping into the water and slowly lowering them both into it.

It was hot and soothing. Steve shivered and leaned back as he was carefully adjusted, coughing and shutting his eyes. Thor rested him in his lap and ran a hand up his chest, rubbing gentle circles and kissing his hair. Steve sighed and let himself float. He felt too stiff to move, and his joints were sore, but the water was already working him loose.

“I hear you’ve been studying,” Thor murmured into his neck between kisses.

“Trying to,” Steve smiled mournfully. “Didn’t get very far.”

“We brought back some more books, if you would like to read them,” Thor offered, stroking up his chest and throat. Always giving, always making sure he had a place, something to contribute.

“Are you kicking me out of the army?” Steve asked quietly.

“Temporarily promoting you,” the king shook his head, his beard tickling Steve’s ear. “To Captain of Research.”

“How does ‘Captain’ rank again ‘General’?” Steve asked. “Can I boss Nat and Clint around?”

“I’m certain they would be happy to get you anything you desired regardless,” Thor breathed, kissing round his jaw. “As would I.”

“Does that make me Emperor, then?” Steve moved his head so Thor could kiss the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t push it,” Thor chuckled, his other hand reaching down under the water, grasping Steve’s inner thigh but not straying any further over. “I am still your king.”

“Right. Does that mean you’ll lord your rank over me when I can fight you back a little?”

“I’ll lord whatever you like over you when you’re well,” Thor promised.

“We could do it now,” Steve offered, turning to the side a bit. “I could-”

“No,” Thor silenced him, clasping his neck and holding his head into his chest. “No, Steve. I don’t want it until you’re feeling better.”

“Could be a while,” Steve admitted, adjusting with a wince. This was comfortable. “Can you wait that long?”

“I will wait as long as I must,” Thor promised, kissing the top of his head. “I waited this long to find you, didn’t I? Besides, I’m happy just to sit here with you.”

That was fine by Steve. He was pretty pleased with this arrangement too. Thor reached for a cloth and started to clean him, rubbing gently over his bruises. All the grime of five days spent in bed with a fever that had kept him there was washed tenderly and meticulously away, leaving him feeling fresh and bit more alive. Thor lifted him out of the water and carried him to a chair, drying him off and wrapping him in a blanket before going to change the sheets on the bed. With the bed freshly made, Thor came back to wrap up his chest and hand again, then carried him back to bed.

“I’ll let the others know you’re feeling better,” Thor smiled and kissed his forehead, stroking back his bangs. The touch didn’t feel so cold in contrast – his fever was coming down. “You can have something else to eat when you wake up. Rest for now.”

He could do that. Steve nodded, shutting his eyes. He heard the creak of a chair as Thor shuffled closer. The blankets were pulled up around him, and fingers raked through his hair. Sleep felt like actual sleep, rather than his body simply shutting off because it was too weak to function. Things could only go up from here. 


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always for the feedback and support!
> 
> Are you ready? Are you really sure you're ready?

While Steve rested, Thor worked. It had scared him – scared everyone – to come home and discover the soldier locked in a struggle against a fever that had come too damn close to winning. But they’d all clustered together, joining Bruce and Tony to hold Steve to them, and now Steve was getting better, bit by bit. He was still weak and coughing, needed help to sit and eat, but he could at least hold up a slow conversation.

Bruce wasn’t letting him out of bed just yet, but Steve didn’t look like he’d be able to walk anyway. Not without help at the very least. His close call with the infection had wiped his strength to nothing, and it was a slow climb back up. He hadn't lost the brightness in his eyes though, always had enough spirit to exchange his usual sassy remarks. The ones that made it even tougher to wait out this period without being able to enjoy intimacy like they usually did. 

The HYDRA spies had been squeezed of every drop of information they could offer before being disposed of. Natasha had taken care of that part. She was with Steve now, and everyone else was clustered around the map, continuing their work to decipher what HYDRA had been planning. All the maps and notes were scrawled in a complex code that none of them had managed to crack yet. Tony and Bruce were focusing on it, but so far hadn’t made much progress.

It was infuriating. Thor nudged a few pieces around the map and sighed, rubbing his eyes. They had plenty of evidence, but none of the pieces they needed to tie it all together. Most of it they couldn’t even read, so they might as well not have it.

A weak, chesty cough and a shuffle of feet alerted the attention of the four of them, and they all looked over to see Natasha at the door, Steve at her side. He was washed pale, his face still healing from the cuts and bruises all over it. His eyes were sunken grey, and his posture was bent in favor of his broken ribs. His arm was draped across her shoulders, the other tucked in a sling. But there was some color rising in his cheeks and determination in his eyes as he limped along pressed tightly against Natasha’s sturdy frame.

Thor was on his feet, pulling out his chair and coming to help Natasha guide him slowly over to it. Steve was panting, out of breath like he’d sprinted here. Before anyone could ask, Natasha was holding up a book and some pages of notes tucked in between. When she rested the book on the table and opened it up, the papers were covered in shaky writing. Steve’s left hand was smudged with charcoal when he set it on the table, and even there Thor could see how badly his tremor had been affected by his condition. It must have taken a lot of effort just to write those couple of pages of notes. There was triumph in the soldier’s eyes as he slid everything over to Thor, still catching his breath.

Natasha spoke for him. “We did it,” she announced. “Well, Steve did. He cracked it. He found the translation key among the books we brought back from HYDRA. The language isn’t exactly the same, but it’s similar, based on the old Asgardian language. All the grammar rules are the same, it’s just some spellings that are a bit different.”

Steve had found a translation guide within the piles and piles of manuscripts, this book sitting right here on the table, and had made condensed notes to follow, a basic guide that would allow them to read every one of his mother’s old books.

“Steve,” Thor breathed, picking up the papers. There were only three sheets, but he could see careful replicas of the old symbols drawn out, a few of the more complicated ones done a bit neater where Natasha must have helped him.

“Might as well give you this encryption code, too,” Tony grinned.

“Nice work, Steve,” Bruce squeezed his shoulder, and Steve flushed, shrugging humbly.

“ Gotta make myself useful,” he remarked, but he was smiling, fiddling with the hem of his sling.

Natasha had a bag over her shoulder, sliding off the strap and setting it on the table. She pulled out a stack of books and set them down. “These looked like the most important ones,” she explained, sliding them across the table so everyone could take one. She’d brought a few copies of Steve’s translation key, written out in her neat handwriting, and handed them out. It was a lot easier to read, but she’d brought Steve’s original copy too, to show them how hard the soldier had been working despite being bedridden.

_ You never stop fighting,  _ Thor thought proudly, pulling another chair right up beside Steve’s. It was good to have the soldier back with them, even though he should probably still be in bed resting. The room had felt empty without him. Besides, Steve looked ready to move around a bit. He’d been obeying all orders to rest, had been letting everyone help him with just about everything. It was probably about time he started to get back on his feet again.

Bruce and Clint ducked out to grab lunch. Bruce came back with some medicine too, and Clint with a pillow and blanket. The archer wordlessly wrapped the blanket around Steve’s shoulders and pushed the pillows behind his back. Everyone was more than happy to have Steve back in their ranks.

Steve looked happy about it too, even if he was still struggling. With nothing but determination, he pulled the sheet of paper Tony slid him closer, stuffing a piece of apple in his mouth (Bruce had thoughtfully brought lots of things he could eat easily with his one shaking hand) and flipping open his delegated text. He picked up a charcoal pencil, examined his translation key, and started to work. The rest of their little group followed suit, reinvigorated.

Thor turned sideways in his chair to watch Steve for a few minutes. The soldier’s eyes flicked from the book he was studying, to the translation guide, then down to his paper where he started to write. His gorgeous eyebrows buried into a frown as he rested his splinted hand on the page to hold it while he drew a shaky line. The half-moon of fading reds around his eye really brought out the blue, and the very tip of his tongue poked out between his lips. It didn’t matter how long it took Steve to write one letter – the soldier pushed on, undeterred and locked in a deep focus.

There was work to be done, though he wished he could sit here and admire Steve all day. “Here,” Thor said quietly, breaking the soldier’s concentration and holding out his hands for the paper and pencil. “Dictate it to me.” 

Steve sighed and pulled his arm off the table, letting it rest back in the sling and sliding over his utensils. He drew his book closer, scouring the words. Thor could see him thinking, and watched with admiration.

They worked quietly so as not to disrupt the others, Steve reading off the book. After a couple of hours, he was starting to memorize patterns, and didn’t have to check his translation guide so much. He picked out important sentences or sometimes whole paragraphs, and together they worked the old Asgardian language into English. Steve was back and forth through the book, making decisions about which parts were important as he skimmed the characters.

“Perhaps I should promote you to Emperor after all,” Thor mused, pushing some apple toward Steve’s mouth.

The soldier broke his concentration and looked up, his focused frown breaking into an amused and flattered smile. “Emperor of research?”

All he wanted was to kiss those lips. It wasn’t fair, that Steve had to be so smart and so beautiful. They were supposed to be working. Thor didn’t really want to work. He grinned back. “Emperor of anything you like.”

“Then my first decree as your Emperor is that you finish working through this chapter with me,” Steve replied, a glint of teasing in his eyes. He must have noticed Thor’s wanting stare.

“Very well, Lord Steven,” Thor set the pencil to paper, awaiting his orders.

“ _ Emperor _ Steven,” Steve flipped the page.

“You Grandest Excellency Steven. The Most Majestic and Wonderous Steven.”

Steve’s eyebrow lifted. “You’re pushing it now. I’ll have your head for that.” He was grinning though, but trying not to and frown commandingly instead. It wasn’t working very well.

Thor laughed, reaching up like he’d done so many times before to give Steve’s hair a ruffle. And just like he usually did, Steve laughed back and batted him away half-heartedly.

They got back to work, and the good mood melted into a puddle amidst the desert of foreshadowing – if they couldn’t find a way to stop HYDRA’s plan, none of this would matter. Thor had seen very little magic in his lifetime, but he’d seen enough black magic at work to know it was destructive. Whatever HYDRA intended to use it for, it wouldn’t be petty party tricks. They could use it to summon an army, imbue their soldiers with a curse that would erase their ability to feel pain. They could curse the land itself and kill the people by destroying crops and animals and their water source. Black magic could end the war before it had even begun, and HYDRA would wipe  Asgard off the face of the earth without going through the bother of actually fighting its soldiers.

That wasn’t going to happen, not while Steve was still living and breathing. Steve had the fighting spirit of an army all to himself. He was barely out of bed, and he was tearing through his book faster than the others, fighting the threat of war with everything he had. He and Thor filled pages and pages with translated text explaining all kinds of information to be studied later. As a group, they amassed reams of information on spells and how to cast them, on basic magic principals, and any other shred of knowledge that might be useful. The hard part now would be putting all that information together and actually using it – would any of them be able to use magic? Because those spells were going to be useless if none of them could be cast.

Thor trailed his eyes over the spell he’d just written, trying to remember the techniques his mother had tried to teach him. Spoken spells were very rare; most magic was cast with the spirit, instead of the mouth. A gesture, a thought, and bam: you could grow a flower from nothing in the palm of your hand. That had been his mother’s favorite. It wasn’t a useful spell, but it was beautiful and mesmerizing. She’d used to do it for him, scooping a handful of dirt and holding it out so he could watch. Then with a sweep of her hand and a glint in her eye, she could blossom any sort of flower he wanted. Frigga’s favorite was a snap dragon, but Thor’s was a sunflower. He’d loved watching the yellow petals burst from the green bulb, seeds spiraling from the center. His mother used to blossom them for him when he was unwell or feeling down. When the world looked dark and it felt like he could never crawl back up, she’d brought him sunflowers, and they had brightened his world just a little. Often times, they had given him the strength to find himself and climb free of the darkness.

Loki had been particularly good at creating mirages. All he’d needed was a thought, and he could disappear, or replicate an image of himself. Frigga had taught him to grow flowers in his hands, but Loki had always been hesitant. It wasn’t anything their father would have approved of. Thor was certain that a few times when he’d been stuck in his world of darkness, that Loki had slipped in disguised as their mother, and left him a sunflower by his bed before slipping away again.

Thor had tried to learn his mother’s magic, but he had quickly become frustrated. Even the simplest spells had been too tough for him, and the only flowers he could manage were dandelions. None of them had blossomed, the green bulbs wilting.

Those were days long gone. Thor wondered if he’d be able to cast any spells now. The gift hadn’t cured him of the darkness that sometimes took his mind, but it had strengthened his focus and his willpower. Maybe...

“You okay?” Steve was staring at him softly, reaching out and weaving their fingers together.

Thor sighed. “It has been a long time since I studied these books. I wish I had studied harder. Then we might be a bit further along.”

Steve smile was like a sunflower. “We’ve got this,” he reassured. “Who knows, maybe it’ll come back to you. And if it doesn’t, well, maybe Tony will be really good at it. He’s tearing through these books. And what about the others? I’m guessing your mom didn’t try to teach any of them magic, so who knows.”

Steve was right: no-one at this table had tried to learn magic before other than Thor, so there was a chance one of his friends might discover a new talent. Thor looked over at the sheets of paper covered in five different sets of handwriting spread all across the table amidst open books. They’d only just begun, really.

But they’d been at it for hours, and he needed a break. Steve needed a break too, rubbing between his eyes and wincing. Thor put down his supplies. “Maybe we should call it a day,” he suggested, looking round the table at the others. Bruce usually had his head in a book, so he was doing just fine. Tony too, hyper-focused and completely lost in his own world. Neither of them heard Thor say anything, but Natasha and Clint both left behind their books and stood up in agreement.

Steve closed his book and set it on the table, slowly rising from his chair. He gripped the table for balance, paling. Thor was already pulling him close, looping their arms.

“Here,” Natasha jogged around the table. “Let me.” She was almost the same height as Steve, so he’d be able to get his arm across her shoulders. Thor loosened his grip and let her take his place.

Clint pulled off the blanket and squeezed Steve’s shoulder. “Good to see you on your feet,” he smiled. “ Lookin ’ better.”

Steve  _ did _ look better, even though he needed Natasha to help him walk. His legs had to be stiff from resting for so long. He was breathing better too. He smiled and thanked the archer, settling into a steady rhythm against Natasha’s support. She led him out of the room after Thor, and they returned to the king’s room.

Thor opened the curtains to let the sun in. They’d been keeping them closed to keep more heat in, but Steve looked so much better, and surely a bit of natural light would do him benefit. Thor brought over Steve’s jacket and hung back while Natasha eased him into a chair at the table. She drew his head into her chest and hugged him gently. “We’re glad to have you back,” she smiled. “Keep resting, alright? There’s no rush.”

“Okay,” he nodded gratefully. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Captain,” she ruffled his hair fondly.

“Go get some dinner,” Steve smiled back and waved her off. “Captain’s orders.”

She laughed softly and batted her hand at him as she left. The door shut quietly behind her.

Thor padded over and draped the jacket around Steve’s shoulders, aiming his left arm through the sleeve. “How are you feeling?” he asked, staring into the soldier’s eyes with pride.

“Like winter might not be so bad after all,” Steve smiled, and it was a touch mournful. He looked down at his hand and rubbed his bandaged fingers.

“It’ll get better soon,” Thor promised. “We can go do some painting if you like. I have no doubt you could learn to use your other hand if you had to. I can help you for the time being.”

For a moment he thought Steve might turn him down, that going to paint might be too frustrating a task to tackle right now, but Steve looked up. “I’d like  that,” he agreed.

It didn’t matter if the painting didn’t look good – all that mattered was the process, the feeling of capability. Thor wanted Steve to know that he was still capable, even with his weak lungs and his broken hand. That shield wouldn’t live on its chair by the bed forever. It might take until spring for Steve to fully recover from the damage that had been done, but he would come back. He  _ would _ get better. Thor knew it, would do everything he could to ensure it, just like he knew the others would too. 

Steve was walking a bit better now that he’d had the chance to stretch his legs. He clung tightly to Thor’s arm and they wandered at a leisurely pace toward the painting room. The stairs were a bit too much for Steve’s recovering lungs, so Thor picked him up and carried him to the top. He set the soldier down and unlocked the door, and they walked inside.

It had been at least a week since they’d come up here. Steve walked over to his easel and propped a smaller canvas in front of himself. He pulled up a stool and sat, reaching with a wince for a brush. Thor drew his own stool to Steve’s right and picked up a palette stained with paints. “Just show me what you want me to do,” he offered, ready to do anything that Steve needed him to.

Steve was a visionary, with bright eyes that could see worlds behind them. He was patient, stubborn, determined to work through his new limitations and create something. And he was willing to accept help. It was with incredible trust that he did, and soon Thor wasn’t just mixing paints. He was being handed a brush and instructed to make a stroke upon what Steve had already painted.

It was just a gradient of color with a few loose shapes within it, blues and whites in the sky, green grass at the bottom, and mountains in the middle, mixtures of greens and blues as they faded into that atmosphere.

“I need a tree there,” Steve pointed, moving his trembling finger down the canvas.

“Are you sure...?” Thor asked, hovering the brush over the brown Steve had just had him mix.

“Course,” Steve smiled. “It doesn’t matter if it isn’t perfect. We can paint over it.” He was already leaning back to make room.

Thor bit his lip and moved closer, holding the brush as steadily as he could. He’d always been steady-handed, but with the gift he could manage incredible precision. This wouldn’t be an issue. It just didn’t seem right, putting his mark on Steve’s work. He wasn’t a painter.

But he’d promised to help, so he set the bristles to the canvas and painted the straightest line that he could, pulling back and looking at Steve for approval.

Steve reached for the brush. He painted his own much shakier line over top, but the wobbles brought the line to life, turned it from straight and unnatural into something alive. Steve smiled at him and handed the brush back. “Maybe a branch right there,” he pointed. “Try to taper the end, but don’t make it pointy.”

With a bit more confidence, Thor started to paint another line, trying to wobble it a bit for that same textured effect. Steve fingers touched his wrist, guiding his hand up, then down, putting some bends in the branch.

“And here,” Steve moved his hand over and guided it to paint another branch. The lines divided the canvas pleasingly. “Maybe a bird?” The soldier pointed to a spot between the branches, where a  silhouette would fit nicely against the bright sky. 

Thor drew a tentative circle with the same brown. He could imagine the bird perched on the branch, enjoying the last few hours of daylight. He gave it a little head and a pointed beak, looking over at Steve. Steve was still smiling.

“It looks good,” the soldier reassured. “Maybe he should have a friend down here,” he pointed at a lower branch. Thor painted another circle for the body, and a little tail pointed down. He painted a head, and the beak aimed upward, like the birds were looking at each other.

Thor turned. “A few leaves?” he suggested.

“Sure.”

Thor painted them, adding just a few here and there where he thought they might look nice. Steve took the brush from him when he was done and added some darker shades to deepen the silhouette and really make the tree pop over the colors of the background. He had Thor mix some yellows and oranges and draw thin outlines around some of the shapes, making them glow against the setting sun.

It was so simple, but when Thor stepped back to admire their teamwork, it was beautiful. The tree stood against the blues and the greens, framing parts of the sky. The painting had life and depth, so much so that he could feel the fading warmth of an evening sun, and the gentle breeze ruffling the leaves. He could hear those leaves, hear the birds speaking to each other between their branches. It was very peaceful.

“Nice work,” Steve beamed at him.

“I’m just the apprentice,” Thor pulled himself from his admiration and set down the brush, smiling back and sauntering closer. He leaned over, brushing their noses together. “You are the master, oh Paint-Smeared One.”

“What?” Steve wiped his face without thinking, streaking blue across his cheek. Thor laughed as Steve peered at his fingers and realized he’d added to the green dab on his temple where he’d accidentally touched the brush while pushing back his bangs. Steve’s fingers reached out, grasping the king’s jaw and rubbing pain into his beard with a thumb.

“Hey!”

“Laugh at me all you like, but you already got some on you,” Steve poked the bridge of his nose. “Not as graceful as you think, Your Lordship.”

“I have you to blame for that,” Thor chuckled, wiping his nose and inspecting the brown that came away on his fingers. He came in close again.

“Oh, so it’s my fault?” Steve leaned away from the kiss, mock affronted.

“Absolutely,” Thor leaned closer, wrapping his hand around Steve’s back to keep him from falling off the stool and chasing after his lips. Steve’s arm wrapped around his back, and the soldier met his kiss, opening his mouth to allow Thor inside. It was a brief and weary kiss, but one that both of them needed, even if it left Steve gasping for breath when they were finished. “Bedtime,” Thor murmured, and Steve’s forehead landed on his shoulder in submission.

Thor dried off the brushes and pulled Steve into his arms, stealing one last look at the painting they’d made together. Maybe when it was  dry they could find somewhere to put it. He smiled and picked up the soldier, who leaned into his chest and let himself be carried all the way back to their room, and eased into bed. Thor got them both changed into some fresh clothes, careful of Steve’s tender chest and wounded arm. They ate in bed together, Thor sat beside him slicing fruit and meat with a knife, handing it over a piece at a time. Steve fell asleep cast in the last few rays of daylight, his paint-stained face looking better than it had even just this morning.

Thor wiped them both clean and climbed into bed, drawing Steve into his lap. The soldier huffed in his sleep and buried closer into Thor’s chest. The king wrapped a strong arm around him and held him tightly, wrapping him in the blankets and leaning back. He fell asleep too, with the hope that things would be even better tomorrow. They would make more progress with their research, and Steve would be a little closer to healed.

\--

Steve slept late that morning. Thor didn’t want to wake him. He looked so peaceful, his head resting in the dip of Thor’s chest where it fit so perfectly. The bruises on his face finally looked healed enough to describe as ‘faded’. He rubbed his hand up and down Steve’s back, feeling the rattle of his lungs and the vibrations of his heart. If only they could lie like this forever.

They couldn’t. There was work to be done, and Steve was going to be part of it. The soldier woke up and stretched, moving better than he had for days. They ate together, and Bruce was by soon after to give checks and medicine. Steve sat patiently in a chair while the doctor felt up his chest and pushed very gently on his ribs. They didn’t buckle, so Bruce left them unwrapped and encouraged Steve to breathe as deeply as he could to help the infection clear up.

The fragile bones in Steve’s wrist and fingers were still very weak, and the deep bruising had yet to clear up. At least they were healing. Bruce didn’t wrap his fingers so tightly and told him to be gentle with his hand, but that he could use it a little. There probably wasn’t much Steve  _ could _ do with it, with his tremor, but it was a good sign, and the soldier seemed encouraged by it in the very least.

All three of them walked off to meet the others and pick up their research again, Steve more-or-less on his own two feet now, but still clung to Thor’s arm. Thor was just fine with that. They kept a slow pace so the soldier could keep up without sending himself into a coughing fit, and when they walked into the planning room, Tony was yelling.

The inventor was stood on the table, legs spread for balance, and flinging his hand at the stone wall. “ _ Incendia _ _! HAH! _ " He held up his palm and a blast of orange fire burst out. It flew across the room and struck the wall, exploding against the stone and sending spark flying everywhere. The inventor staggered a step or two backward and fell off the table and onto a chair. The chair tipped over, and he crashed on his shoulders, legs in the air. There were a few seconds of silence as everyone stared at the scorch on the wall, and the sprawled inventor. Tony rolled and stood up, his hair even wilder than usual, and brushed himself off. “Did you  _ see _ that!” He was running over to Steve, grabbing the soldier by his shoulders and squeezing. “We did it! Son of a bitch! It worked!”

“I don’t think you need to yell when you do it,” Natasha frowned, examining the notes Tony must have been referring  to. “I’m not sure you even have to say the word. Actually, I’m  _ sure _ you don’t have to say the word, because you definitely said it wrong.”

“Don’t care!” Tony whirled on his heel and stomped back to the table, hopping onto it triumphantly. He was dressed in the same clothes as yesterday.

“How long have you been down here?” Thor asked.

“Oh, all night,” Bruce answered, rubbing his eyes. “I suggested we try something a bit easier, or at least a counter-spell since we have no clue what HYDRA are trying to do, but he wanted the fire one. So we worked on the fire one.”

It had  _ worked. _ Thor didn’t  _ care _ which spell they’d been practicing all night, only that they had succeeded. It was possible. All their work hadn’t been for nothing. All  _ Steve’s _ work had led to this, made it all possible. He patted Steve’s shoulder and led him to a chair, smiling at the soldier.

Steve was beaming with awe. “Wow,” he remarked.

“Wow is right,” Tony pointed at Steve with both hands, the inventor’s grin a little weary, but extremely pleased with himself.

“Has anyone else managed?” Thor asked, looking around at his friends.

Natasha shook her head alongside Clint. “Just Tony, so far. Oh, and Bruce managed a few sparks when he got the chance.”

“We’ve appointed ourselves to magic coaches,” Clint added.

“I’m a genius,” Tony remarked, “ha ha ha ha.” HYDRA was going to burn to the ground. The inventor aimed his hand at the same spot on the wall and out shot another blast of fire.

“Okay,” Bruce tugged on Tony’s pant leg as he walked by, picking up a small stack of papers and leafing through them. “Maybe we should try something else, alright? You can practice this one later.”

Tony hopped off the table, ecstatic, and peered over Bruce’s shoulder.

Thor and Steve exchanged glances before the soldier reached out to draw some papers toward himself and have a look through them. He leafed through them with his weak right hand until he found  one he wanted, drawing it from the pile with his shaking fingers. “Maybe this one...” he suggested, and everyone paused whatever they were reading to listen. “I think this is a barrier spell.”

Thor plucked the paper from Steve’s hand and gave it to Tony, who skimmed the words with a few glances. Then he was on the table again, bending his knees and dropping the paper. Bruce scrambled for it, taking a step back and looking between the paper and the blacksmith. Tony held up his hands and drew an arc over his fist with his palm. The air crackled blue, a few lines appearing before fizzling away.

Tony tried again, sinking deeper into his stance and concentrating. The others watched in unruptured silence while Bruce consulted the page. “More purposeful strokes,” he suggested, and Tony’s arms clenched as he tried the gestures again. 

This time, the air shimmered, crackled, and the shape of a big, blue rectangle stayed floating in the air. It wavered, but it was very clearly there. Tony grinned and spun on his heel to face his friends, snatching the shield from the air. It stayed on his wrist, wide enough to protect him, and reaching down to his knees and above his head. When the inventor straightened and held up his hands, the light faded into nothing.

“My turn,” Bruce leapt onto the table and handed Tony the paper, swapping places with him. The doctor tucked his glasses into his shirt, determined though he wasn’t at all a soldier.

_ We are all warriors at heart, _ Thor thought as he watched his friends with pride and warmth surging through his whole body. He watched one of his closest, most trusted friends find a place of focus within himself and move his hands through the air with impeccable control and undaunted purpose. The doctor took his time, and they all watched him with anticipation.

The air crackled just as it had for Tony, but Bruce’s shield was bigger, better. It held its shape.

It was going to be a long day in the planning room. Thor found himself watching mostly in silence, standing off to one side with Steve on his arm, the soldier directing while Clint and Natasha filtered through their notes for the best spells to practice. Steve commanded them, and they listened without question.

“Tony, it’s a gesture spell,” Steve instructed, “you have to be more precise and forceful.” Steve was wearing Bruce’s glasses to help him watch his friends more closely, since his own were basically ruined. Thor would have to remember to have another pair made.

They’d cleared everything off the big table in the center of the room and arranged it on a smaller one, where the two generals were sifting through pages and pages of notes gathered in just two days. They were working on translating even more of the ancient texts, searching for better spells, better techniques.  _ Anything _ that could be used against HYDRA. Fireballs and magic shields were all well and good, but they wouldn’t be enough. What  _ was _ enough probably couldn’t be learned in a day.

Or maybe it could. Maybe Tony was just special. Bruce had a knack for this as well. Thor had considered giving magic another  go , but decided it was best to let those two keep at it. He would only slow them down. Besides, he was content here at Steve’s side, watching the proceedings and helping Steve juggle all the notes and books he was trying to consult at once.

For the first time in a long time, it felt like they were actually getting somewhere. Tony and Bruce had managed to conjure the easiest, most basic spells, and maybe that was all they would manage, at least in whatever time they had, but it was progress. It was another weapon, one that HYDRA wouldn’t expect. If the advisors had managed to spread whatever knowledge they had of  Asgard , its court, and its king, then HYDRA would know that Thor had no aptitude for magic. 

_ That was many years ago. I’ve changed. The gift might help.  _ Not everyone had an aptitude for magic, and some people were downright incapable of using it, of the rare few who actually got the chance to learn it. Maybe Thor just wasn’t cut out for using magic at all. Or maybe the gift would help him, help tame his focus and memorize the patterns. He owed it to his kingdom to give it a try.

Another time. He was actually enjoying Tony’s whoops of success each time he managed even the hint of a spell. Bruce’s quieter pride with his own successes was just as enjoyable.

_ If we lose the war, at least I got to see this. _ All six of them, happy, working together as a team. Steve guiding them like he was meant to do it, and the others following.

\--

Thor wondered if Steve would ever get back to where he’d been before this. He hadn’t dared suggest sex, even though they both clearly wanted it. Steve was just too weak to endure that sort of strain, and even when all his bones healed, maybe he always would be. He could barely walk one flight of stairs, couldn’t tie the laces on his boots with his exacerbated tremor. 

That was alright, if they never had sex again. So long as Steve was safe and by his side, he didn’t care. There were other ways to make each other feel good without going to such strenuous lengths. Maybe when Steve was a little  better they could start slow. Steve didn’t have to take Thor inside him. Thor could look after him, make all his aches fade into  white pleasure in other ways. He wanted that. He would offer, when the infection cleared up.

For now, it was down to cuddling. Steve made a good cuddle partner. He fit just right in Thor’s lap, so willing to nuzzle right in close, sometimes pressing tired kisses into Thor pec before falling asleep, just like he had last night.

Now, it was the next morning, and they were back to work again. Bruce had forced Tony to go to bed, even though the inventor had fought to stay up later to practice more spells. Thor still hadn’t worked up the courage to try any himself.

Steve hadn’t tried any either, happy with his role stood at Thor’s side directing the chaos. They were practicing the barrier spell today, Tony and Bruce taking turns launching other attacks at each other while one blocked. They tested new attacks on the poor, scorched wall before turning them on each other.

After a long day of practice, they parted ways, Tony taking off to his workshop for a power nap, Bruce going to study some more books in the infirmary, and the spies off for an evening training session with the soldiers.

“Are you too tired for a short walk?” Thor asked. Perhaps they could meander the halls for a little while. He hated to keep Steve off his feet too much, considering the soldier couldn’t yet draw with his poor hand.

Steve shook his head. He was rubbing his chest with a wince. “No, I’m alright. Could stretch my legs a bit.”

So they walked. Steve slid his arm through Thor’s without hesitation and leaned into him a little, breathing through his mouth as they set off in an arbitrary direction. They passed by the paintings hung in the hallways, and Steve paused to look up at Frigga’s kindly smiling face.

“I wish I’d met your mom,” Steve mused quietly.

“I wish I had met yours,” Thor smiled, staring up at his mother.

“She was...” Steve shook his head and looked down. “Amazing. I’m not sure I can think of a better word than that. You’d have liked Bucky, too.”

“I’m certain I would have,” Thor agreed. “All brave and noble warriors share a connection.” He squeezed his arm against Steve’s pulling the soldier a bit closer. Steve was pale and panting, a little shakier on his feet than he had been these past few days. “Are you alright?” he frowned.

Steve pushed his free hand into his chest, opening his mouth to speak, but instead just gasping for air. “Thor-” he choked. “I don’t feel good.”

Thor was already moving, taking Steve by the shoulders and starting to rush him back the way they’d come. Steve was slumping in his grip, tripping over himself as he tried to keep up. Luckily, they hadn’t gone deep into the castle, and the infirmary was close.

Steve was already going down, washed white and unable to keep himself upright anymore. It was luck that Thor didn’t stall as well, continuing to move and scooping Steve out of the air before he could fall, then breaking into a run to cover the last few feet. Something was very wrong. The soldier was silent in his arms, still gasping, digging his hand into his chest over his heart like it hurt.

“Bruce!” Thor called, bursting into the infirmary. Steve’s eyes were sliding shut, his pants fading and fading in a matter of seconds. The doctor was on his feet, dropping his books and running over.

“What’s wrong!” he ran to a bed, grabbing Steve’s arm as the soldier was laid onto it and looking between both men. “Steve, what’s wrong!”

Steve didn’t answer. His eyes were shut and he wasn’t breathing anymore, still on the sheets.

Bruce pushed two fingers under his jaw. “His  heart’s stopped,” he breathed. “His  heart’s stopped, Thor! You need to give him  chest compressions!”

There was not time to think, no time to ask any questions. Thor laid his palms against  Steve’s chest and pushed, careful not to put his hands right through the soldier. Those ribs submitted to him, bending under the force as he pushed and pushed and pumped Steve’s heart, watching for any signs of life. Watching for a sign that this was a dream.

It had to be a dream, didn’t it? This was exactly the sort of thing he dreamed about when he was suffering from anxiety.

This felt too real, even for a lucid dream. Steve was really spread out on the blankets, his face totally relaxed, and his skin a cold white. Thor pushed, and begged.  _ Please let it not be real. I’ll give anything to wake up and find him safe beside me. Please let him wake up, and be well. Don’t take him from me- _

“Keep it up!” Bruce yelled, running for the door.  _ No, don’t leave me! I need you! I need you to fix him, I need you to make sure everything will be alright! I can’t do this alone- _

Too late, the doctor had already run off, leaving Thor alone to push on Steve’s chest. “Please, Steve. Wake up. Open your eyes. Look at me, say something. Please.” Begging wasn’t a cure, but he would damn well try it. “I need you. You’re too strong for this. You can make it through, I know it. You need to keep fighting.”

Maybe Steve didn’t have the strength to fight anymore.

_ He was fine yesterday. He was fine an hour ago! He was getting better. He was breathing better... _

The sickness must have damaged him, left this little present to take them by surprise sometime in the near future. Steve’s weak body had given up, too strained to fight anymore. Thor could feel tears starting to build in his throat as the truth of it settled on his shoulders.

Bruce was back, Tony on his heels. “Go, get my books!” he ordered, and the inventor ran to the doctor’s shelves, pulling out texts and flipping through them. There wasn’t a second to waste, and Bruce was already ripping open jars and abandoning the lids, throwing plants into a cup and pouring water over top. He ran back over and put the cup to Steve’s lips. “This might help,” he panted, lifting Steve’s head a little to the liquid could trickle down his throat. “Keep up compressions.”

“Here,” Tony was over, pointing to a note in one of Bruce’s medical books. “This one. Try this one.” The inventor and the doctor swapped places, Bruce running back to his supplies to search for another ingredient. Tony drew up to the bed and pinched Steve’s nose, leaning over before Thor could stop him and breathing into the soldier’s mouth. Oh, he was doing breaths.

Steve’s heart shuddered under his palms. Thor could feel the valves vibrating uselessly, and willed them to pump on their own, pushing harder. He felt a rib give way, and the crack spread away from his palms. Cracked ribs would heal – a dead heart wouldn’t.

Bruce was back again with more medicine, frantically tipping it down Steve’s throat. “Adrenaline,” he explained. “It’s pretty potent, but it might kickstart his heart. We have to try.”

Tony was pulling back.

“Where are you going?” Bruce asked as the inventor ran for the door.

“Spell!” Tony yelled back. “I’ll find one!”

A healing spell, of course. Why hadn’t they thought of that sooner? Could Tony find one and learn it well enough in time? How long did they have before Steve was too far gone? Minutes? Hours? Thor would keep up compressions for days if he had to, but he doubted this would do any good for much more than a few minutes.

Bruce leaned over to do breaths, checking  Steve’s pulse in between.  _ Please. Please, anyone who’s listening.  _ Thor begged the gods, fate, destiny, any powers that be.

Steve shuddered. His eyelids wobbled but didn’t open, but he drew one shaky breath, then another, and his heart pulsed under Thor’s palms. Hesitantly, he drew back, choking on a sob as Steve’s heart continue to beat on its own. Steve was alive, sucking short, wheezing breaths through parted lips, unconscious and still but  _ alive. _ They had time. They had a chance.

Bruce pulled back grimly. Neither of them said a word for a few moments while they watched with ready hands. For now, Steve was breathing.

“Get him settled,” Bruce ordered quietly, turning away. “And let’s hope Tony finds something.” He squeezed Thor’s shoulder and hovered there a moment in consolation. There was more to be said, but the doctor kept it to himself for the time being, walking back to the door. “I’m going to get the others.”

Thor nodded, unlacing Steve’s boots and pulling them off with trembling hands. He wrapped the blankets around the soldier, propped him up with pillows from the other beds, and brought over a chair. He sat and wrapped Steve’s hand in his, watching the soldier chest as it rose and fell in pathetic sweeps.

If  fate was real, it was laughing at him.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is how I cleanse myself emotionally.
> 
> Very much enjoying your reactions as the story ramps up B)

Steve had lost all the color he’d regained, grey and still under the blankets piled over him. At least when his skin had been burning with fever it was a sign there was life in him. Fever was the body’s way of fighting. Steve didn’t look like he was fighting at all. Nobody could get any work done. Nobody wanted to leave the infirmary in case they came back and Steve had slipped from them. There was nothing they could do. Nothing Thor, Natasha, and Clint could do at least. Tony was scrambling through books as fast as he could, searching for anything remotely resembling a healing spell while Bruce alternated between helping him look, searching through his own texts for medicine, or bringing food for everyone. Nobody wanted to eat, but they did, because they had to. 

Steve slept through the evening and into the night. Thor sat up and watched him in the candlelight, holding his hand and praying to the gods. He cried. He hadn’t cried like this in a long time, silent tears that streaked down his face in torrents while his face stared on, unable to express the type of sorrow he was feeling. 

Someone squeezed his shoulder, and he jumped, turning to see Tony there, a piece of paper in his hand. “We can try this,” the inventor whispered, picking his way over Natasha’s sleeping form. Thor watched Tony kneel by the bed and place his hand over Steve’s heart. The inventor shut his eyes, and Thor prayed, squeezing Steve’s hand and holding it to his chest. 

Tony drew lines in the air, and they glowed and shimmered, casting his face in bright orange light. They flickered and died, so he stopped and tried again, waving his hand through the air to dissipate his failed attempt. The inventor set his jaw and studied his notes before drawing with more purpose and a clenched jaw. The lines stayed in the air this time, pulsing with a lively fire. Thor watched, resisting the urge to feel too hopeful as he watched Tony trace symbols in the darkness like Thor had never managed to master. _You can do it. I know you can._

_Please._

The spell worked. Tony’s other hand glowed against Steve’s chest, and the glow faded through the blankets and into Steve’s body. Thor squeezed the hand and watched intently, Tony hovering over as well. Steve’s eyelids trembled and his fingers twitched in Thor’s grip. He frowned and coughed. 

“Steve?” Thor whispered, leaning forward and wiping his eyes dry. “Steve, wake up. Look at me.” 

Steve didn’t. Thor swallowed roughly and leaned forward, nudging down the blankets and resting his ear against the soldier’s chest. With his enhanced hearing, he could hear all the valves of Steve’s heart and the rush of blood being pumped through them. He knew all too well how Steve’s heart should sound, and this was a far cry from that. Tony’s spell hadn’t worked; Steve’s heart was still shivering, as if it could lurch to a halt again at any second. Thor could almost see it with how well he could hear the organ thumping inside Steve’s frail chest. 

“I’ll keep trying,” Tony promised, already turning away. “I’ll keep practicing. Maybe something else will work better.” 

They’d been so close. Why did it always feel that as soon as he found something good, it was ripped away? Fate must hate him, if it existed. Fate must hate Steve, must see him as a plaything. Thor worried Steve’s hand, rubbing the knuckles in an attempt to soothe himself. He had to stay calm. He had to think. 

He couldn’t. He was helpless. All the strength in the world wouldn’t help him now. It wouldn’t help Steve. The gift was useless. _Good for nothing._ It hadn’t saved his family, and it wouldn’t save Steve. Night dragged on, but when the sun came up and the first rays of light broke him from his trance, Steve was still alive. Maybe it was just barely, but alive was alive. Alive was something to work with. There was no cure for dead. 

The others woke up one-by-one, apart from Tony who was still hard at work, clearly exhausted by the rings under his eyes but showing no signs of stopping. There was no time to stop. Steve needed them yesterday. Now might be too late. 

Never too late. They had options. Maybe Steve would be alright with some more rest. Maybe he’d just strained himself by getting out of bed too soon. _His heart stopped._ Thor couldn’t lie to himself. Steve couldn’t sleep this off. He needed far more than sleep. 

“I’ll get you something to eat,” Natasha rubbed her eyes clear and squeezed his shoulder, reaching down to press her fingers into Steve’s cheek and hovering like she wanted to say something. She didn’t, turning and walking away with heavy steps. 

Clint wasn’t far behind her, lifting his head off the blankets by Steve’s feet and blinking sleep from his eyes. He immediately looked up, relieved to see that Steve was still there, still just barely breathing. The archer cast his sympathetic gaze to Thor, but didn’t say a word. There was nothing to say. Clint got up and walked around, squeezing Thor’s shoulder instead. Steve coughed, and when they looked down his eyes were open. 

They were _open._ Thor's heart soared. He was off the chair and on his knee, clutching Steve’s hand to his chest and kissing it. “Steve,” he whispered hopefully. 

“Hey champ, you with us?” Clint was there by the king’s shoulder, asking softly. Thor heard the barely-imperceptible crack in the archer’s voice. 

Steve’s eyes rolled their direction, and he licked dry lips. He looked so weak and pale, and in pain. But there was still light in his eyes, still recognition. He was still with them. The sound that came out of his mouth was a soft moan. 

“I’m sorry,” Thor swallowed and got himself under control. “I’m so sorry, Steve. I had to give you compressions.” Steve’s poor chest had to be aching. “Talk to me. What do you need?” 

“Thor...” It was a word, at least. _You can rest this off. You can. You slept off the brand. You slept off the infection. You can sleep this off too._

“Right here.” This was nothing like those times. 

“Clint.” Steve looked up at the archer. 

“Here,” Clint echoed. “We’re workin’ hard to help you, champ, kay? All you gotta do is rest and let us do the hard work. We’ll find something.” 

Thor wondered if Clint actually believed that, or if it was just for Steve’s sake. Maybe it was for Thor’s, too. Thor tried to believe it, smiling reassuringly and nodding. “We will find something, Steve.” 

There was no fear in Steve’s eyes, just calm acknowledgement. Steve knew what was happening, could probably feel it better than they could see it. He could feel the life draining out of him. That was terrifying. _No, fight it! Fight against it!_ Steve _was_ fighting – that was _not_ complacency in his eyes, it was determination. 

“Steve,” Natasha appeared in the doorway and ran over, leaving the food she’d brought on the bedside table and kneeling at his side. He smiled at her, and she abandoned all her masks, a couple of tears gathering in her eyes as she hugged his head. “Something to eat,” she whispered, taking some bread off the plate. 

All three of them watched Steve slowly chew what she gave him, Tony joining in as he abandoned his work and came over. Bruce emerged from his room a few seconds behind and rushed over. “We’re going to fix this,” the doctor reassured, and he too had dropped all his attempts to be clinical, squeezing Steve’s shoulder with completely visible concern. “We won’t stop until we find something.” 

Steve didn’t say anything, smiling softly around at all of them. Thor wished they would be normal – everything was going to turn out fine. He fought against the trembling in his hands and pressed Steve’s knuckles against his lips. 

“Thor? A moment?” Bruce backed up and touched his shoulder, looking down poignantly at him. Natasha caught on, murmuring softly to draw Steve’s attention and continuing to feed him small pieces of bread. Clint slid in and gently pried Steve’s hand into his own grip. Thor stood reluctantly and followed the doctor out into the hall just by the door. He knew what was coming. His chest was already tightening, his throat sealing shut. 

Bruce took his wrist, his face full of sorrow and apology. “Thor... there’s no easy way to say this.” 

“He’s going to be alright,” Thor rasped quickly, gripping Bruce by the shoulders. 

The doctor slowly shook his head. “He went into cardiac arrest, Thor. I’ve scoured every piece of text I have, and I’ve done what I can. His heart is probably scarred from the infection. Maybe his lungs are damaged too... His heart could stop again at any time. Today, tomorrow... He might go another month if he’s lucky...” 

“Tony’s looking for a spell,” Thor shook his head. He didn’t want to hear it. 

Bruce sighed sympathetically, patient as ever. “I’m not going to give up. None of us will. I’ll help Tony look for a spell, and we can hope it helps, but healing magic is complicated and difficult. We’ve just started learning any magic at all, and even though Tony’s a natural...” It could still be too late. Thor sagged forward and Bruce wrapped his arms around him, squeezing him tightly. “I know,” he whispered as the tears started to come. “I know. We’re going to keep looking, alright? We’ll do everything we can for him. We’ll make sure he’s comfortable at the very least. I’m sorry, Thor. I’m so, so sorry.” 

Steve might not see out the week. He was on his way out, would only get weaker by the day. Feasibly, could Bruce and Tony master the right healing spell in time? 

“You need to be ready to say goodbye,” Bruce whispered. “As ready as you can be.” 

“It’s not fair,” Thor whined. “It’s not fair, Bruce.” He’d found this beautiful thing, and it was being torn away from him. He’d finally found Steve, someone so beautiful in every facet, a man with a spirit unlike any other, a man with the soul of a lion. A man he could love like he’d never loved a person before. 

“No, it’s not,” Bruce agreed, his own voice cracking but holding together. He held strong for Thor, holding the larger man up and rubbing up and down his heaving back. “It’s not fair at all.” 

“Why him?” Thor begged. “Why? Why can he not find peace?” 

“He will,” Bruce promised. “He’ll be with his family. We’ll stay with him and he can have anything we can give him. He’ll be at peace, Thor. He’ll miss the war. He’ll get to be with his mother and his friend.” 

“He should be here with me!” Thor barked, blinded by his own tears. “I love him, Bruce,” he whispered. “I love him so much.” 

“I know,” Bruce replied calmly. “It’s not fair. It never was. But you’ll bear this like you’ve born everything unfair before. Because you’re the strongest man I know. Go be with him. We’ll deal with everything else for as long as we need to.” For as long as Steve had left. 

Steve’s heart could stop beating any second, and when it did, they probably wouldn’t be able to get him back. So, he didn’t have much time. He had to be fast. “I’ll be back,” Thor whispered, squeezing Bruce one last time and running to his room, wiping frantically at his eyes. Steve needed him to be calm. Be it days or weeks, Thor was going to take care of him until his last breath. 

\-- 

His friends left him space, hovering anxiously nearby but trying to keep busy by helping Tony hunt for spells. Nobody wanted to stray too far just in case, but they gave the pair a bit of privacy and huddled around Bruce’s desk to work. Thor sat in the chair by the bed, holding back his tears with sheer willpower. At least Steve looked comfortable, propped up and warm in his bed. His eyes were barely open, but he was awake, gazing fondly at Thor. _Please don’t look at me like that..._ It squeezed his heart and he quickly lifted his mandola out of the case, focusing on arranging it in his lap. 

Steve’s hand emerged from under the blankets, his fingers curling around one of Thor’s and squeezing weakly. “Hey...” his voice was so quiet, but it commanded his attention. Thor looked bashfully up, and Steve looked straight into his heart. “Hey... it’ll be okay.” 

“Aren’t I supposed to be reassuring you?” Thor replied, attempting a smile that wouldn’t convince anyone. His hand left the strings to wrap around Steve’s possessively. 

Steve’s smile turned sympathetic. “No. I’ll be fine.” Steve wasn’t the one getting left behind. 

Steve knew he was going to die. Thor looked away and sniffed, forcing himself not to cry. 

“Hey,” Steve ordered a bit more forcefully this time. “Look at me.” 

Thor looked. 

“You’re going to be alright,” the soldier commanded. “Captain’s orders.” 

“I don’t want to be alright if it’s not with you,” Thor whispered, not caring how stupid it sounded. It was how he felt. 

“I’ll always be with you,” Steve whispered, pulling the hand to his chest and resting it over his heart. 

Thor leaned over to reached, unable to stop himself from welling up now. He shook his head stubbornly. “I don’t take orders from you. King outranks Captain.” 

“What about Emperor?” Steve replied. “Already promoted me. So I’ll order you as that. You’ll be alright.” 

Thor didn’t believe it. The pain in his chest was excruciating, and Steve wasn't gone yet. He leaned closer while he still could and pressed his lips over Steve’s, savoring how soft they were. Steve kissed back, pushing his hand through Thor’s hair and holding them together. The soldier was too weak to give much back, but he let Thor’s mouth inside his, let it explore. He wanted to memorize Steve’s mouth. There would never be another like Steve. This might be the last mouth he ever kissed. 

They pulled away, Steve’s fingers in his hair, stroking down the side of his face. “You gonna play that?” he whispered. “Been a while.” 

“Of course,” Thor kissed his lips and pulled back just far enough that he could hold his instrument and play it. 

Soft music filled the infirmary. Thor started like he always did, fiddling with the notes until he found something he liked, then weaving a tune from that. And as always, it held memories of tunes his mother and brother used to play. Steve shut his eyes, and the corner where everyone was working went silent. Thor danced his fingers over the strings. It felt like so long ago that he and Steve had sat under the evening sun together, when the weather was warm enough that they could stay out to greet the stars. It felt like years since Steve had crept up the hill and hid behind a gravestone to listen to him play that first time. War had been so distant then. The world had been much colder. Steve had brought him into the light, had pulled him from his obsession with the graveyard and retaught him how to enjoy life. Steve had helped him move on from his losses. Steve was about to become his next loss. And Thor was going to send him off. He had time now to say what he wanted, time to think. He thought about what he was going to say as he played. There was so much he needed Steve to know. He hoped he would have the strength to say all of it. He would have to: he owed that much to Steve. 

Steve might have won them the war. He had helped rescue Tony, and they might not have succeeded without Steve to slide himself through that tiny opening. He’d helped plan a lot of other raids, too. Steve had cracked the code to accessing those magic texts, and might have decoded HYDRA’s plans given the time. Steve had saved lives on the battlefield, had saved _Thor’s_ life with his quick thinking and skill with his shield. Steve was going to be all of Asgard’s loss. 

All his paintings were going up. The royal painters hadn’t been hired in a long time, but Thor was going to employ them one last time and have them put up a tribute to one of the greatest warriors to ever fight for this land. Greater than Odin, greater than any of the royal lineage. Steve hadn’t fought for glory – he'd fought for lives, for rights, for protection of the common people. He’d fought for justice, and because it was right. He’d fought the common battle for the common man, and if Odin deserved a commemorative painting for fighting armies for useless trinkets, then Steve deserved a whole mural. 

And if Thor had to risk crying every time he laid eyes on that painting, that was alright. He never wanted to forget Steve, and he didn’t want anyone else to either. 

\-- 

Word had spread that one of Asgard’s soldiers had been brutally wounded and wasn’t going to get back up. Steve hadn’t been seen in the streets for a while, or at training by the other soldiers. When a handful of soldiers appeared at the infirmary door, Steve was asleep, Thor at his side as he had been all day. The soldiers approached quietly, respectfully. They left food and other tokens from them and the citizens. Natasha took to arranging them. Steve managed some canned fruit when he awoke briefly, but he was already starting to lose his appetite. They got him to eat the soft fruit, though, and he seemed to enjoy it. 

Research wasn’t getting anywhere. Tony and Bruce were practicing their spells on Clint, hoping that if they could find something to fix the archer’s deaf ear, they could cure Steve’s scarred heart with the same spell. So far, they hadn’t made any progress. 

Steve wasn’t going to live another month. He’d be lucky if he made it to the end of the week. It had only been two days since they’d resuscitated him, and he was already noticeably weaker than when he’d first woken up. Everyone practically lived in the infirmary now, taking shifts to work. They fought to force Thor to sleep, promising to wake him if anything happened. Thor could hardly sleep, managing barely a whole hour at a time before fear woke him. It was a beautiful day, unusually warm and bright. Bruce opened the window and let the sunlight shine on Steve’s bed. It gave him the illusion of color, the bright light on his greying cheeks, hiding the deep shadows around his eyes. They had very little time left, and Thor knew that the next time Steve woke up, he had to say what he needed to. He might not get another chance. 

“Steve?” he coaxed, unable to hide the sorrow and urgency in his voice when he saw the soldier’s eyelids flicker. For a moment he wondered if it was too late, that he’d missed his chance and Steve wasn’t going to look at him, but the soldier opened his eyes and turned his head on the pillow. He was still there, still hanging on. “Steve...” Thor swallowed, squeezing a hand in both of his. Steve squeezed back and smiled encouragingly, still so strong in spirit. “Steve... I love you.” He had to say it. He didn’t care if it would make this hurt more. Steve needed to know. “I love you so much. You’ve given me so much. You’re the strongest warrior I’ve ever met, and you’ve given me the strength to fight even when it seemed hopeless. There are so many who owe you their lives, me included, and I would give you all my strength if I could. I would give up everything for you. You’re a beautiful artist, and I admire your talent every time I think about it. These have been some of the happiest months of my life, spent with you, and I need you to know that. I need you to know that I love you.” 

He didn’t think it could hurt more, but it did. Oh, it did. Steve stared at him, impossibly calm. He pulled gently on Thor’s hand, but was too weak to manage much more than that. 

Thor got to his knee by the bed and held Steve’s left hand tightly, reaching into his pocket. “I love you,” he held eye-contact, savoring the blue of Steve’s eyes. “I want you with me, forever. I know it’s only been a few months, but I want you to be with me.” He held up his mother’s wedding ring. Maybe it was a bit sudden, but it felt right in his heart. And he wanted Steve as close to him as possible. 

“Yes,” Steve whispered before the question could be asked, swallowed and gathering his strength just to speak. “Yes, Thor,” he whispered, and there wasn’t a shred of hesitation in his voice. Thor blinked away tears and slid the ring onto Steve’s delicate finger. It was a bit loose, but that was alright. It wouldn’t come off. 

They were bound together now. No-one was there to officiate, but that was inconsequential. Thor leaned forward to seal it, cradling Steve’s head and kissing him firmly on the lips. The kiss tasted like both their tears. Thor tucked Steve’s left hand back under the blankets and held him. 

\-- 

_In a void of darkness, he heard a voice._

_A billion eyes opened at once, lighting the black with blinking stars. Warm hands cradled him in galaxies._

_“For whoever holds a pure spirit, and a kind heart, may possess the power his body cannot obtain.” Fingers trailed up his spine, searching. They stroked his ribs and pushed through to his heart, probing, examining. “For whoever holds the desire to protect others will wield power no person can achieve by their own efforts.”_

_He was burning from the inside, his veins filling with light._

_“For whoever holds these things in his spirit, if he be worthy, shall wield the power of Mjolnir.”_

_And he’d exploded. It had felt like that at least, hot fire coursing through him. He’d screamed, he was sure of it, feeling every cell change within his body. The galaxies around had reflected back to him, a power that surveyed the universe judging him. It had picked him apart, stripped the layers to dig out his very core._

_It had found his flaws, stared at them for a while, and Thor had wondered if he would be accepted. He’d feared Mjolnir wouldn’t accept him, that the darkness in his mind would deem him unworthy._

_It hadn’t. Mjolnir had moved on, looking past it to other characteristics. Choices, desires, things that were in his control. Things he chose to be, what he worked towards. And it had given him power beyond what he could have fathomed._

Thor woke up, lifting his head off the blankets and rubbing his eyes. _For whoever holds a pure spirit, and a kind heart._ He stretched and quickly looked up. Steve was still there, breathing in the early morning light. _For whoever holds the desire to protect others._ Thor slowly lifted out of his chair, watching Steve’s sleeping face. _For whoever holds these things in his spirit..._

He was a moron. A blind, stupid fool. Thor nearly knocked over the chair as he straightened and grasped Steve frantically by the shoulders. He could barely contain himself. “Steve!” he shook the soldier. “Steve, wake up!” 

Those awake at the table lurched upright and ran over, fear and sorrow in their expressions. Natasha was at his side, expecting the worst, and Clint kicked Tony awake. Bruce ran out from his room. 

“Thor-” Natasha whispered, reaching for his arm. 

Steve wasn’t dead yet. “Steve!” Thor shook again. 

“Thor, stop!” Bruce grabbed his arm. “Thor-” 

Thor shook him off and turned, grabbing the doctor by the shoulders. “I know what to do,” he gasped. “I know where to take him.” 

It took Bruce a moment to understand, but when he did his eyes widened. “Thor...” 

“I have to take him.” 

“The war-” 

“I have to.” 

Bruce didn’t argue, setting his jaw and turning to Natasha. He’d figured it out. “Saddle a horse,” he ordered, and she nodded, Clint running off to help her. The doctor gave Thor a nod. “You need to go as soon as you can.” 

It was a few days’ travel. Maybe a week if the weather was bad. They would be lucky if Steve made it that much longer. But Tony had that covered, running to his work bench and coming back waving a piece of paper. 

“We can try this spell,” the inventor suggested, falling to his knee beside Steve and sliding his hand under the blankets. “It should give him a bit of strength. Might give him a few extra days.” 

They had to take anything they could get. Thor watched as Tony murmured under his breath, focusing deeply and drawing runes in the air. The inventor looked like he hadn’t slept in days. He probably hadn’t. But his eyes were completely alert as he performed the spell to perfection. The hand on Steve’s chest glowed, and the soldier coughed and opened his eyes almost immediately, gasping a bit more enthusiastically than he had for days. 

“Steve,” Thor came closer, stroking back the soldier’s bangs and grasping his hand. “Steve, look at me.” 

“Thor-” Steve frowned, staring over at Tony in confusion. 

“Steve, you need to looked at me,” Thor demanded, and Steve met his gaze, freezing when he saw the urgency in the king’s stare. “There’s one last thing we can try. There’s still a chance. Steve, I need you to ask me. You have to say it.” 

“What-” 

“ _Say it!_ ” Thor grasped his face. “I need you to say it!” 

Steve’s bottom lip trembled. “Thor...” he swallowed and whispered. “Thor... I don’t want to die.” 

“You won’t. You’re not going to die,” Thor promised. 

Steve’s eyes were welling up now, losing his calm. “I don’t want to die,” he shivered, reaching for Thor’s shirt. Even with the spell he was too weak to pull the king to him. Thor came closer, lifting him off the bed. “I don’t want to die!” 

“You’re not going to!” Thor squeezed Steve, squeezed his eyes shut and rocked them. “You won’t. I promise.” He couldn’t promise that, not logically, but he did. _Pure_ _of spirit, kind of heart._

_Worthy._

Only time was against them now. Thor knew it. Should have known it the second he realized that Steve glowed so purely. 

“Thor, what’s going on?” Tony asked, stepping back as the king flung off the blankets and started to pull Steve’s boots on one at a time. 

_I’m going to look after you, just like I said I would. I can save you._ Thor remembered how to get to Mjolnir. 

“Here,” Bruce appeared at his side, a backpack in one hand. “There’s some supplies in there. Water, food, enough for a return trip. Changes of clothes. I’ll get him ready. You go get the rest of your things.” 

Thor didn’t think. There was no _time_ to think. He just ran, filled with new hope that for once didn’t feel futile. Maybe it was. Maybe this was all a hopeless quest, but he had to try. He knew he had to. The war didn’t matter right now. He got dressed, putting on his chest plate and strapping his sword to his back. He pulled on his big red cape. He was a _king_. The king of Asgard. One legends were told of. Lord Thor tightened his bracers around his arms and ran back to the infirmary, nearly crashing into Natasha and Clint on his way. 

Everyone gathered around the bed where Steve was sitting, his arm around Bruce’s shoulders, too weak to keep himself upright but a bit livelier thanks to Tony’s spell. This might be the last time anyone saw him again. Natasha hugged him, kissing his cheek and letting her tears drip into his shoulder. “See you soon,” she whispered. _They will. We’ll be back. Both of us._

Clint came in for a hug too. “Hang in there Steve. Take care.” Something tender, but not too final. They were all trying to find hope for themselves, and give Steve their strength. 

“We’ll keep your shield all polished for you,” Tony said, giving Steve a tight squeeze. 

Finally, Bruce turned and drew Steve into a hug of his own. “It’s going to be alright,” the doctor promised quietly. “Don’t be too long, alright?” 

They had to go. Minutes could make the difference. Bruce had already helped Steve into a warm coat, and Thor wrapped him in a blanket, picking him off the bed and carrying him to the stables where a saddled horse was waiting. Natasha held the reins of their fastest horse so he could climb on, Steve carefully balanced in his grip. He cradled the soldier against him with one arm and grabbed the reins with the other. 

Bruce waved. “We’ll take care of everything here. Be back soon.” 

Thor nodded resolutely and turned the horse around. 


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your reactions were very much enjoyed B) they gave me great pleasure. Still more good stuff to come, hang tight.

The horse burst out of the stables in a thunder of hooves and flurry of snow, racing out across the cobblestones and down into the city. Thor’s cape streaked scarlet behind him as he leaned forward, Steve’s body held tightly against his chest. People cleared the streets to let him by, heads turning with curiosity. They didn’t get much chance to look as he flew past toward the North gate. 

He remembered the way. It was ingrained in his memory. 

The horse was sure-footed, skirting around underbrush and leaping over logs. It was going to be a long few days for the poor creature. It was already panting. Thor let it rest, slowing them to a steady walk. Steve was sat sideways in the saddle, asleep against his chest. His skin was grey in the dim light of the forest, and he was hardly breathing. Tony’s spell had given him a bit more life, but it wasn’t much. Steve was still dying. Thor tightened his grip around the soldier and let go of the reins so he could wrap his other arm around him for a while. As soon as it had caught his breath, the horse was off again. Asgardian horses were strong, and built for temperate climates. They could handle the heat, and they could certainly handle the cold. The horse galloped through the snow without slowing. When the sun began to set, Thor slowed them once again, sliding out of the saddle and carrying Steve with him. The soldier was awake, his breaths fogging the air in small puffs. Thor brought him and the horse down under the shelter of a huge tree, and laid Steve on the pine needles. He pushed a rolled blanket under his head and went to start a fire. As soon as he’d heated up some of the food Bruce had packed him, he shuffled a bit closer and cradled Steve in his lap. The soldier had quickly dozed off again. 

He kissed him to wake him up. “Steve...” he whispered. “Steve, food.” 

Steve blinked his eyes open and wriggled a bit, his left hand appeared from the blankets to take what Thor gave him. He ate slowly and in silence, already starting to fall asleep again. Thor ate for himself, rolling an apple toward the horse. The beast lay down in the dirt and ate the fruit in one bite. All three of them drank, then Steve and the horse fell asleep. Thor carried Steve closer, tucking the soldier between himself and the animal’s warm flank. They could sleep like this, rested against the horse, Steve held protectively in his arms. 

He couldn’t sleep. He managed a few minutes at a time, for a few hours, but that was enough. He could get by. The horse had rested, was ready to carry them again. Thor stamped out the fire and climbed into the saddle, repositioning Steve in his lap. The sun hadn’t started to rise yet, but they were off again. 

When the cold wind hit, Thor pulled the blankets over Steve’s head and tucked the soldier’s face against his chest, shielding him from the blast of freezing air and the swirling snow. The horse had to slow, neck down as it struggled through the snowstorm. Thor let go of the reins to curl his whole body around Steve, keeping him safe and warm. Steve kept on breathing – thank the _gods_ he was still breathing. Finally, the forest thickened again, and they were sheltered from the storm, but the trees were too thick to gallop through, so they were forced to pick their way through at a more careful trot. 

They stopped again for food and rest, and Thor left Steve propped against their bags eating his dinner while he tended the horse. He took off the saddle, combing the animal with his fingers and scrubbing away the dirt. He made sure it was fed, had already let it stop for a drink at the river they’d passed. Asgard was far, far away. Thor rubbed his face as he sat beside Steve and stroked his bangs. Steve was getting weaker by the day, and Mjolnir was still a few days’ travel away. As they headed farther North, there may be harsher weather conditions waiting for them. 

“Really nice out here,” Steve murmured, staring up at the tree that sheltered them. The trees were getting bigger, too, forming domes around their base that protected them from falling snow. It was a bit warmer under here, peaceful. 

“There is so much world beyond Asgard’s walls,” Thor smiled sadly, trying to hide the sadness away. He’d made a promise. He was going to keep it. “I’ll show you some places even more beautiful than this.” 

“Be nice to paint them,” Steve agreed. Thor put water to his mouth and helped him drink. 

Steve would turn these landscapes into gorgeous paintings. Thor smiled and put down the water, scooping some dirt into his hand. It was very dark in here, and the darkness was eating away at his mind. That darkness would suck away all his determination, all his vigor, and right now Steve needed him to be focused. He couldn’t afford to let the darkness take him. Maybe he could remember that spell. Thor warmed the soil in his hand and held it cupped in his palm, gesturing with the other hand and watching as the dirt quivered a little, a small green bulb poking free. “Steve...” he whispered. “Steve, look.” _Some color in all this black..._

Steve looked, watching as the flower pushed out of Thor’s palm and blossomed, glowing faintly. A sunflower emerged from the bulb, small and green, but distinctly a flower. Thor laughed and blinked away his tears, holding the small, pathetic flower in his hands like it was made of gold. Steve was smiling at him with awe and joy. 

Thor had to try again. He plucked the flower from his palm and snapped off the roots, wrapping Steve’s fingers around the roots. The ring was still there. Steve watched him scoop up a bit more dirt and try the spell again. The king searched for that place inside of him where the magic flowed, that sense of purpose that would direct it to do what he needed it to do. He needed a flower, the biggest, brightest sunflower that had ever been grown. 

He wanted it to fill their little shelter with golden light. Thor focused all his energy into that pile of dirt in his hands, sweeping his palm over it and guiding another bulb up and out. It started to grow, higher and higher, the roots tickling as they pushed free of the dirt and grew around his hands, around his fingers, weaving them together. The bulb split open, and a bright orange sunflower curled out, glowing its light onto Steve’s wondrous expression. It lit his eyes on fire as the petals stretched and the whole thing spiraled outward. It grew and grew until he couldn’t coax it to grow anymore, bigger than his head. He fell back and sat beside Steve, and they both admired it. 

Something wet rolled down his cheek, soon followed by cold fingers gently brushing it away. Steve was reaching for his face to wipe the tears away. “Don’t cry,” he whispered. “Please don’t cry for me.” 

“I’ll cry for you if I want,” Thor sniffed, sliding the roots off his hand and digging a small hole. He scooped out enough dirt and planted the flower, filling the hole and patting it in place. Then he carefully lifted Steve off the ground and into his lap and held him against his chest. 

Steve’s hand stroked his face, the ring on his finger cold on Thor’s skin. “Shh, don’t cry,” Steve ordered. “I’m happy. Been happy for months. You gave me everything I could have ever wanted. And now I’m with you.” 

It was just the two of them. War didn’t matter right now. It was off in the distance, a threat for tomorrow. Thor hugged Steve tightly, squeezing his fingers and feeling the ring. “You’ll have many months more,” he promised. “You’re going to be alright.” 

Steve hadn’t asked where they were going, but he didn’t argue, didn’t doubt the king’s words. “I trust you.” 

“Good. Because I’m going to look after you,” Thor kissed Steve’s hair. It was limp on forehead, not as soft as usual. 

“Then you’ve got nothing to cry about,” Steve tipped his head to smile at him, freeing his broken right hand from the blankets turning their clutched hands over, tapping the ring. “That makes me a king now too, so, king’s orders.” 

“I thought you were Emperor,” Thor sniffed and smiled damply back. 

“I demoted myself,” Steve shrugged, resting his head wearily against Thor’s chest, letting his hand fall into his lap. 

They gazed at the sunflower for a while, until Steve fell asleep. Thor carried him back to the horse and huddled close. They could spare a few more minutes of rest. 

When he stood to depart again, Steve was still asleep, and didn’t stir in his arms. His heartbeat was even weaker, trembling under Thor’s searching touch. He hurriedly mounted the horse and urged it to run as fast as it could back on their path. 

The trees were getting bigger still, and the ground clearing as the snow became trapped in tighter foliage above. Good, that meant they could run faster. It was getting darker under here, but they were well-insulated from the harsh winds beyond the protection of the trees. A few currents gushed through the trees, but they weren’t nearly as powerful or as cold as what they’d escaped from. The horse slowed to catch its breath, and Thor scooped up some dirt as they walked by a hill. He reached around Steve’s sleeping form and worked his mother’s spell, coaxing a small sunflower out of his palm. He broke the stem and tugged down the blankets far enough to tuck it into Steve’s hand. The flower reflected warm yellow light into Steve’s face, giving the illusion of vitality. He was still alive, still clinging by a thread. It wouldn’t be long now. As soon as the horse caught its breath, they ran again. 

The sounds of shouting caught him by surprise, and he whipped his head around, drawing the horse up a small incline and over a little hill, slowing to a stop and backing them behind the safety of a tree. He squeezed Steve’s against him and peered around, searching with his enhanced eyes through the thick forest. They were not alone. There were other men here. He could hear them shouting, see their dark armor. 

HYDRA. HYDRA was here. And they weren’t galloping the other way toward Asgard. 

That didn’t matter. Thor turned his horse and aimed it away from the soldier, diverting their path before heading back straight up. They couldn’t afford to be caught. Thor couldn’t hold off however men there were and protect Steve at once, and Steve didn’t have that kind of time. Last night might have been the last time he was going to wake up. 

They couldn’t be far now. It was just another day’s journey, by the size of the trees. Thor didn’t stop for rest this time, feeding the horse from the saddle and letting it walk for a little while. They found a river, and the horse stopped to drink, Thor getting out his water and taking a drink for himself, too. He got Steve to drink, tipping the water through his panting lips. Steve moved his lips like he was speaking, but no sound came out. He didn’t move, but at least he swallowed all the water he was given. Thor didn’t dare nap, even as they continued to walk along at a slow, steady pace. There was no way he could take that sort of risk. He rested his hand against Steve’s chest to feel his beating heart, fearful that it would just stop without warning. 

The forest grew darker still as the trees grew taller and wider, and the branches wove more closely together. It was almost like night under here, but without a moon, and without stars. Those small flecks of light winking in and out were _not_ stars. 

They were close, Thor knew it. He knew what the landscape had looked like, recognized the crackle in the air that he only noticed because he’d been here before. There was energy here. There was magic, powerful and beckoning. Steve stirred a bit in his arms, sighing softly. It was too dark to gallop safely, but the horse was still trotting along at a good speed, picking its way across the underbrush. Now that the trees were so much larger, they grew much farther apart, leaving more space underfoot. 

Thor felt it before he saw it. His heart clenched, and a flicker of green glowed up ahead. The horse trotted a bit faster, and the light grew a bit stronger. It seeped into the forest, lighting everything in a warm, lively light. He could see, suddenly, all the verdant beauty around them. The light didn’t come from the sun. Where it came from was impossible to tell. The black was washed away in every shade of green imaginable, cold shadow warmed by that bright light. Thor loosened the blankets around Steve’s body as they trotted into thick grass. It was just as he remembered, a dome of green that felt like its own universe. Maybe it was. Maybe they’d stepped from this forest into some other dimension. The trees were wider than houses, draped in vines and crawling with lush moss. The horse pawed its way through bushes and under curtains of lichen, up and up a gentle incline toward the center of this small world. They were close now.

Thor could hear the trickle of water and faint whispers drifting through the air like pollen. He slid out of the saddle and got to his knee, laying his cargo in the soft grass. “Steve,” he whispered. “Steve, we’re here.” 

Steve didn’t answer, the sunflower loose in his hand. He didn’t look like he was breathing, but he was. He was still alive. There was still time. Thor unwrapped Steve and draped the blanket over the saddle. He left the animal there, setting his jaw and pulling Steve onto his back. The soldier’s short, weak breaths tickled his ear, and he listened to them carefully as he started to run, Steve’s arms wrapped around his neck. Thor ran, leaping through the thickening underbrush. He ran deeper into the sanctuary, jumping up a small hill in one bound. He let go of one of Steve’s legs to brushed aside some leaves. Just on the other side, was the biggest tree in all the forest, the bark curled and twisted, deep grooves spiraling around it. The trunk split, roots plunging into the earth like pillars. Thor ran through the arch. 

Second biggest tree. This tree was so big that the one protruding branch he could see was larger than any of the other trees in the forest. The branch stretched almost straight, smaller branches spearing into the ground like columns and holding it up. Where it met the trunk, Thor could just see a dark outline of an opening, lichen and leaves falling across it. He got to his knee and slid Steve off his back, undoing the buckles on his cape. There was a hidden path around here somewhere, but he didn’t have time to look for it, or navigate it. Thor balanced Steve on his back and secured him there with his cape, twisting to test the knots. Steve was safely tied to him. He wasn’t going to fall off. With both hands free, Thor ran. 

He jumped with all his power, leaping into the tree nearby and scaling the branches. Then he threw himself across and grabbed hold of the notches in the bark of the biggest tree. The ridges were so deep that he could almost stand on them. Thor reached up, and climbed. It was a long way up, an impossible climb for anyone else. Not for Thor. Thor was stronger. He climbed, listening intently to Steve’s breathing and using it to fuel him. He couldn’t afford to slow, or slip. Steve wasn’t going to live out this day. 

They were a long way up. Thor growled, muscles aching, and hauled them up the last few feet. He grabbed a vine woven round the platformed branch and dragged them up, panting, but not stopping. The opening was right beside them. He staggered to his feet and started to loosen the cape, jogging into the cave. 

It wasn’t as dark inside as it looked to be from the outside. The platform continued inside the tree, and the trunk was hollow, filled with shimmering water that stretched into infinity ahead. The platform led right to the edge of the gently-rippling pool, reflecting the stars that shimmered all around them. All of space stretched before them. Thor got to his knee, feeling the weight of it just as he had before. He freed Steve from his back and untangled him from the cape, hugging him tightly in the middle of this peaceful cavern. 

This could be the last time he held Steve in his arms. “I love you,” Thor choked, making no effort to stop or wipe away his tears. He kissed Steve’s forehead, his lips, stroking his hair. “I love you so much. It’s going to be alright.” Either way, it was going to be alright. If he lived or died, Steve would be free of this weak body that had let him down so often. He would come back to his family here, or go to the family waiting for him on the other side. 

Thor didn’t want to let go, but he had to. If these were his last moments with Steve, he wanted them to last forever, but Steve was dying. He didn’t have time to wait. The gift wouldn’t undo death. Thor laid Steve flat on the mossy wood, stripping him down to his pants. He unwrapped the soldier’s hand and rested it across his chest. New bruises were layered over the old ones on his ribs. Steve looked like he was sleeping, _almost,_ with how peacefully he was laid out. Thor couldn’t stop to admire him, lifting his body off the ground and carrying him toward the water. He waded into his knees, and the water lapped at his skin, welcoming him back. The waves were reaching for Steve, ready to take him away. Thor shivered, lowering his cargo into the water and letting go. He had to let go. 

Steve floated on his back, and the water carried him deeper and deeper into the stars. Thor stood and watched, tears blocking his vision. He couldn’t turn away until Steve’s body was far in the distance, disappearing over the edge of the water and falling away into the nothingness of space. There was only to wait. 

Steel clashed outside. Thor whirled around, scooping up his cape on the way and running to the exit, peering down below. 

The green was stained with black as HYDRA soldier filed in. There were at least fifty. Some of them weren’t men. Some of them were _bears._ And that was a wolf held between two soldiers by chains, snapping and drooling. At the head of the pack was a man in dark robes, with dark hair. Thor could just make him out. The king fastened his cape and paced out of the cave and across the platform, wiping his eyes dry. 

The men saw him, and the leader turned to peer up at him. There was some surprise there, but it was quickly wiped away. “So the noble king strays from his castle once again,” he spoke, and Thor immediately recognized that threatening tone, could see that face even from this distance. He could make out that sickly, pallid skin. 

The man with the powder. The leader of HYDRA. Thor stood his ground from above, clenching his fists. “You will not achieve what you want here,” he replied. “You will not be deemed worthy.” 

“Are who are you to judge?” HYDRA’s leader replied calmly. “We will see.” 

“You aren’t going in there,” Thor growled. What was the fastest way down? Back down the tree trunk, probably. 

“We shall see about that, too, Your Highness.” The man turned to his men, already stepping back through them. “Kill him.” 

Thor clenched his teeth and jumped off the branch into the nearby tree, dropping down to a lower branch, then to the ground, drawing his sword. He was more than happy to let out all his grief like this. 


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Backgrounds are really not my strong suit, but some visuals for Mjolnir were requested so I thought I'd give it a go! I do need the practice. I hope to do some proper paintings, but we'll see if they turn out...
> 
> For those of you who follow my artwork, I'm setting up a patreon! So stay tuned for that. Additionally, you can still find me on [tumblr](https://stormyandrescuer.tumblr.com/). I'll be doing more drawings for this hopefully soon, and I'd love to hear what things you'd like to see drawn! Thanks as always for your support! Now back to the story.
> 
> I've written this in split-perspective, because I wanted both character's view-points in here. I hope it's clear enough who's perspective it is at any given time. This might be a good chapter to read with a soundtrack.

HYDRA hadn’t expected Asgard’s king to welcome them, that was for certain. The soldiers were hesitant, letting go of the chains holding the feral animals they’d brought with them. By the looks in their eyes, those animals had been drugged. 

A wild wolf or a snarling bear weren’t any match for Thor. Even wolves and bears as huge as these. Still, Thor wasn’t keen to slaughter them. He sheathed his sword and ran down the incline to where the enemy was gathered, putting all his power into his strides. A handful of slathering animals tripped over each other in their haste to get to him. The fastest wolf snarled, flashing teeth and hungry eyes, the chains still attached to its collar whipping out behind it. This soft grass was ideal for sliding on. Thor dropped and slid with his weight on his knee, grabbing hold of a flailing chain as he passed, then pushing to his feet and whipping the wolf around. It jerked with a yelp and a whine as it was suddenly yanked off course and flung around in a circle. Thor released it into the wide-eyed soldiers and turned. The other animals were scrambling over each other to turn and rush for him again, the slowest bear now the closest. 

_Fought stronger._ He could punch a bear. Thor turned his back on the HYDRA soldiers and ran for the beast, ducking under a swiping paw punching it under the jaw. It barked and flailed for him, claws gouging his leather armor. Thor grabbed it by its hairy arm and threw it to the ground, breaking its leg with the sheer power of the twist. He kicked it in the throat, and it struggled to get up, so he moved on. 

The ground trembled under their feet, the sky booming with thunder and alive with energy. The hairs on his arms stood up. 

A wolf lunged for him, and he grabbed it by the collar as its jaws snapped at his arm and its blunt claws dug into his legs. He hurled the animal as hard as he could. 

\-- 

_Everything was dark. He opened his eyes in a sea of eyes blinking back. It was warm here. Warm to his core. He hadn’t ever felt a warmth like this._

_Was this the afterlife?_

_He’d been dying. Was he dying still?_

_Ma, Bucky, they were waiting for him. Maybe he should just lie here for a little while._

_In a rush of vertigo, he realized he wasn’t lying down, but standing. Steve stumbled back from the edge, but he was already falling, the ground rushing away from his body. He scrambled, but there was nothing to hold onto, nothing but twinkling galaxies all around._

_He fell until he wasn’t, suspended in the air. The stars were suddenly very close, the specs dancing around him like fireflies. They coalesced, swirling around him, and he watched them, enraptured. Death was pleasant._

_The stars stopped circling him, stopping over his chest and bunching up into a pointed shape. His eyes widened as they pierced him, driving straight into his heart. He screamed. It felt like his body was being taken apart bit by bit and put back together. He cried and howled, but there were fingers in his chest, and they weren’t going to stop._

_The fingers of the sky opened him up, peeling him like a fruit to examine his soul. Eyes opened within the galaxies, and stared at him, all-encompassing, all-knowing, all-seeing. And they saw him, those eyes of white and crackling blue, staring right through his body into who he was. His body didn’t exist on this plane, in this world, wherever exactly they were. Not Earth, not the land of the living._

_“For whoever holds a pure spirit, and a kind heart, may possess the power his body cannot obtain.”_

_Someone was speaking to him, searching deeper and deeper._

\-- 

The HYDRA soldiers were circling him, waiting for the wild animals to wear him out. Thor was stronger than a bear, fiercer than a wolf. But they were more numerous than he was. 

He had rage on his side. Thor channeled his grief, and grabbed a wolf by the throat, squeezing while it whined, and not letting go until it went limp in his grip. Another leapt up from behind and snapped at his wrist. Thor whipped his arm out and flung it off, slobber and blood dripping off his skin. Something yanked him back, and he stumbled, turning to see a growling wolf tugging on his cape. He jumped and twisted, yanking the animal toward him. He grabbed the cape and pulled it the last few inches toward him, driving his fist between its eyes as it flew toward him. It rolled away with a whimper, but shook out its head and lunged forward again, still just as angry and determined. 

HYDRA must have given their furry friends some of that powder, or a version of it, because they were beyond rabid. Maybe he really would have to kill them, lest they finish him off instead, or weaken him too badly to destroy the rest of these men, and their leader. 

Where had their leader gone...? Watching from the safety of the shadows, he would imagine. 

Thor drew his sword again. 

\-- 

_The fingers had deeper yet to go, splaying him out across the vast sky and picking apart all his facets. The eyes examined him, alongside all the billions of eyes gathering like stars all around._

_“For whoever holds the desire to protect others will wield power no person can achieve by their own efforts.”_

_A mantra, a promise. So simple, yet defining. A set of values without many criteria, but with weight. Those fingers searched his spirit, weighed his heart. He couldn’t hide anything from them. He dangled amidst the stars that held him, helpless and waiting for their verdict._

\-- 

The ground shook again. Thor staggered, but found his foot quickly and slashed at the wolf, cutting open its chest and pushing it back. It howled, falling. One of the chains whipped around, catching him in the face. The strike was hard enough to split his jaw and bruise his face. He staggered back again. A wolf launched for his leg and he kicked it off, losing his balance. The other bear clawed at him, and he raised his sword to protect himself. The blade was knocked from his hand, and he was knocked onto his shoulders. 

The ground shook again. 

\-- 

_There was burning in his veins._

_He was on fire._

_“For whoever holds these things in his spirit, if he be worthy, shall wield the power of Mjolnir.”_

_The fire engulphed him, and he screamed again. It felt like his whole body was stretching, threatening to rip apart. He was glowing brightly, light streaming off of him like a sun in the middle of all this dark space._

_He knew pain. Pain was his friend. Pain had always been at his side, a constant companion. He could handle this. He grit his teeth against it and endured._

_The fire crawled through his back, drawing up through the scars. He could feel every line, every imperfection, and he had to scream again, because it hurt. It hurt worse than when the wound had been dealt._

_This was a purging fire, not a hurting fire. And a cleansing flame had to be so much more powerful to be effective. Steve cried out, and the universe soothed him to be patient. Hands stroked his arms, his legs, his chest, molding and caressing. Changing him, reaching inside to alter him._

_He could breathe._

He could breathe. He was breathing. He was standing. 

There was moss under his bare feet, and weight in his heels. Steve stood there panting, unsure if the slickness on his skin was water or sweat. 

Where was he? 

He was in a cave, a bright light just ahead, and glowing stars all around. There was wet moss between his toes, water lapping at his ankles. 

“Thor?” 

No reply. His voice echoed, stronger and clearer than it had ever been, vibrating inside his chest. Steve put a hand to it, and found that it was drawing deep, powerful breaths. Deeper than he had ever breathed. Was he even alive...? For the first time in his life, he wasn’t in any pain. 

No pain at all. Nothing. Not an ache in his crooked spine, or a wheeze in his lungs. Not a shiver in his heart, or a headache between his eyes, or that dull pulse in his deaf ear. The world felt so much larger all of a sudden, because his deaf ear wasn’t deaf anymore. His previously-blurry vision was so sharp it took him by surprise. 

Every little sound filtered through. The soft ripple of water stretching into infinity behind him, the whisper of voices in the stars. 

_“Go.”_

He went. He walked. His stride was longer, more balanced than it had ever been, stronger. Muscles pulsed, ready to be used. He had strength, seemingly endless. Endless to him. He walked out of the water and onto the branch, slowly trying a bit faster, a longer stride, aiming for the opening. 

Leaves brushed against each other far, far above, and the wood creaked as he broke into a tentative jog. His body asked for faster, gave him more. His throat didn’t close, his lungs didn’t seize. They just kept on drawing breath, ready to give what he asked for. Steve broke into a run and burst into the sun, feet pounding on the wood. 

Colors he’d never seen before welcomed his eyes, fresh air wafting up his sinuses. 

Fresh air and blood. Greens and browns and reds. Steve turned his head and saw it, the tangle of soldiers, the sweep of scarlet beneath it. Thor’s cape. He growled, and it rumbled deep in his breastbone. Steve swelled, and didn’t think, didn’t slow his sprint. He flung himself off the branch, and yelled. 

\-- 

The bear tore at the dirt, gouging up plants as it tried to gouge Thor instead. Its jaws snapped at him, and he grabbed its face, pushing its head back and away from his soft flesh. Teeth pierced his boots, trying to yank him back by the leg. He yelled and kicked at it with his other foot, but he couldn’t see to aim, and the wolf held on, trying to drag him away from the bear. 

Thor lost his grip and scrambled, punching the bear in the muzzle before it could tear out his throat. It roared as its head snapped to the side, but righted itself and roared again, raising its head to the sky blocked by foliage. 

The thumping of feet gave Thor pause, and when he looked around, some of the soldiers were staring past the brawl and up. A shape familiar yet different streaked across the branch far above. The bear bore its teeth at Thor, huge fangs ready to destroy him. 

A glowing white shape dropped out of the sky with a yell and bowled into the bear, smashing it aside and wrapping around its neck. Both weights rolled, squashing the wolf trying to gnaw off Thor’s leg. The shapes rolled and rolled, sprawling in a growling heap. Thor scrambled back, fumbling for his sword while he could. The wolf shook its head and pounced. Thor jammed his forearm into its mouth, and it clamped down on his bracer, squeezing the steel with its teeth and growling around it, clawing at his skin with its front paws. 

The bear flew past and into the small cluster of HYDRA soldier coming into help the wolf finish its kill. 

A hand wrapped around the wolf’s collar, ripping it away and hurling it into the enemy soldiers. 

Thor couldn’t stand, couldn’t speak. He lay there gasping in the grass, barely able to prop himself up so he could at least properly see that it was Steve standing there heaving. 

Those were Steve’s shoulders, Steve’s narrow waist, Steve’s sandy hair a damp, wild mess. 

It was Steve in every noticeable way, especially when he turned to look back, and Thor saw his eyes, bright blue and alive with that fighting fire. Those were Steve’s soft lips, his sloped nose, his dark, shapely eyebrows. 

It was Steve, but three times bigger. Steve, brimming with life and sheer power, his whole body jumping with muscle as he met the wave of HYDRA soldiers surging for the fallen king head-on. Thor could only watch and catch his breath, trying not to choke on his tears of relief, trying to remember he was still on a battlefield, and that now was not the time to be sobbing and grinning and admiring. 

Steve moved unrestricted, shouting and grabbing a wrist as a soldier jabbed his sword at him. Steve yanked and twisted, while smashing his bare foot into another. The strike dented the soldier’s metal chest plate and sent him flying into a tree, gasping for air. When Steve swung a punch, his fist crunched the face it collided with, and the HYDRA soldier fell, gushing blood out of his nose, completely still in the grass. 

Without thinking, without slowing, Steve ripped the sword out of a soldier’s hand and blocked the swing from another, kicking him back too and slicing into a third. He was too fast, too strong, but the remaining enemies were rallying and swarming. Thor set his jaw and started to get to his feet, but Steve was already there, reaching out his hand and scanning him over to make sure he was alright. 

The Steve he’d held dying in his arms this same day was pulling him up, _pulling_ him. When they stood, they were perfectly eye-to-eye. 

Steve smiled at him. His face was a bit squarer, his jaw stronger, and his neck wider, but his smile was the same. His lips still curled like they always had, one eyebrow quirked, his skin no longer grey but flushed with healthy pink. Steve whirled on his heel and pushed their backs together, just as ready to fight as he’d always been. 

The HYDRA soldier hadn’t been ready for Thor, and they certainly weren’t ready for the two of them. There weren’t many left, and all the rabid animals were taken care of. Steve rolled his sword in a steady and dexterous hand, his heartbeat strong and steady through Thor’s back. He was breathing smoothly, without a rattle or a hitch. 

Thor wiped his eyes dry and raised his weapon too. Two men against all these soldiers wasn’t going to be much of a fair fight. 

Steve was a storm of a force, hints of his lessons with Natasha shining through, but playing out so differently with this huge body and heightened instincts. Steve just launched himself right in, didn’t think, just fought, all of him rippling with smooth, perfect skin. 

_All_ of him. 

The brand was gone. Miles of pale, healthy flesh was unblemished. As the gift had wiped HYDRA from Steve’s body, Steve wiped HYDRA from their path, slicing and kicking and punching, his whole body moving with wild fluidity. The last man fell, and they stood there for a moment, staring at the carnage, then staring at each other. 

Steve moved first, and could he _move,_ closing the short distance between them in a couple of lengthy strides. He dropped his sword and lunged forward, grabbing Thor by the front of his cape and spinning him round, _picking him up_ and _slamming_ him up against the nearest tree and kissing him roughly. He tasted the same, kissed the same, but with more power, more desire – the same trajectory, but the strength to get there now. 

They pulled apart for a second, and before he could catch his breath Thor wrapped his arms around Steve’s huge, warm body and held him tightly, letting the tears come. He squeezed Steve against him with no fear of hurting him, swaying a bit; his legs felt weak, but he was still trapped between Steve and the tree, and had no need to retain any strength of his own for anything but this hug. 

Steve hugged him back, pulling him away from the tree so he could get his arms around the king and squeeze back, muscle flexing in his arms. Thor finally, reluctantly pulled back, his eyes watering so badly he had to wipe them to properly admire Steve’s full chest, ribs no longer pushing through. Steve’s hands were a bit bigger, but those long fingers were the same, reaching up to cup his face and wipe the tears away, the soldier smiling through his own and laughing. Laughing with a chest full of breath. The ring was still on his finger, the band snug around it. 

Thor couldn’t help but press his hands into Steve’s chest, to run them down his smooth sides all the way to his waist where his belt had snapped and was hanging loose. “I knew it,” he heaved, still rasping through his tears as the grief became joy and relief and pride, and so many other things jumbled together he didn’t know what to do with them but cry. “I knew it. I knew it.” He grabbed Steve’s face, pushed back that same floppy forelock, and kissed his lips. 

Steve was crying too, his grin wide and his mouth hanging open as he stuttered and tried to figure out what to say. His eyes were roaming, searching Thor, admiring the red of his cloak, scanning all over the king’s body and up around them, filled with wonder. “I can see,” he swallowed roughly. “I can see everything. You’re...” Steve was admiring his face, his hair, cupping his chin and rubbing a thumb across his lips. “I can hear.” 

The gift had fixed _everything._ Thor laughed back and grabbed Steve into another hug, rubbing up and down his smooth back and his straight spine. “Your back...” he breathed. Steve needed to know. “Your back, Steve.” His rubbed so Steve could feel that it was smooth. There wasn’t a single trace of the HYDRA brand anywhere on his skin. All of it had been purged away. 

Steve cried out, a sound of joy mixed with a sob, burying his face into Thor’s neck and holding on, laughing and crying at once, his massive body shaking with all the emotions bubbling inside it. “You saved me,” he said in a rough, quiet voice. 

“No,” Thor pulled away so Steve could look him in the eyes. “ _You_ saved you. And perhaps I could have saved you some pain had I realized sooner.” 

Steve laughed at that, falling back into the hug. “I love you,” he pushed his head under Thor’s chin, even though he actually had to bend down to do it. “I love you so much. I didn’t tell you before... I was scared. I love you!” 

“I love you,” Thor reaffirmed, finding Steve’s hand, the left one with the ring, and the right one healed and perfect. Steady. The tremor was gone. Thor could feel the steadiness through their touch. He squeezed. “My offer still stands.” He hadn’t given that ring just to ease Steve’s pains, just to selfishly draw the soldier as close to him as possible in his dying breaths. He’d done it because he’d meant it. 

“What, this?” Steve sniffed and drew back, grinning as he held up their entwined hands, the ring shining in the green and yellow light all around. “Not sure you could get that off if you tried.” Steve’s fingers had grown in width, but not so much that the ring would be impossible to get off. Not that either of them wanted to try. 

“I suppose I need a matching one now, then,” Thor smiled. 

“I suppose you do, Your Highness,” Steve grinned back. 

“Clothes first?” Thor raised his eyebrows. Steve looked quite comfortable in just his pants, even if the waistband was a bit tight, and the ankles were a long way up his shins. They’d been quite loose before, but they were far too snug now. 

Steve nodded, glancing around at the bodies they’d both forgotten about as Thor led him to one side and whistled. The horse trotted through the trees and came to a stop beside them, sniffing Steve before nuzzling him with familiarity. Thor pulled his bag off the saddle and set it down, kneeling beside and rummaging for some supplies. He found the spare clothes Bruce had packed him, standing up and walking back. Steve paused petting the horse and took the clothes, loosening his pants and sliding them off. 

Thor felt no shame standing back to admire all of Steve’s new body. Well... it was still Steve, still the same basic shapes but layered over with muscle. If anything, this new body was even _more_ Steve, how Steve was always meant to be. He was even more triangular, so strong and graceful, all of Thor’s favorite characteristics wrapped in healthy flesh and put on display; his calm, commanding presence, his caring demeanor, and his big chest to hold a big heart. 

Steve was never going to get sick again. He was never going to have to suffer the way he had. He was stripping out of his pants, smoothly doing up buttons and lifting his arms over his head without any trouble. Thor's shirt was a bit tighter around Steve’s chest, and the borrowed pants a bit more loose on his hips, but they fit. Thor would miss Steve swimming in the king’s shirt when he borrowed them, the collar slumping off one shoulder, but he had to admit he was quite happy to stare at the swell of Steve’s new shoulders pushing against the fabric and the curve of his chest smoothing the wrinkles. 

It was like a dream, standing amidst all this gorgeous green, Steve here with him. Steve was going to be with him for a long time, if they both made it through the war. _We have so far. We will._

Steve found some boots that fit off a HYDRA soldier and put them on, walking back, his hands spread and his eyes on his feet. He looked a bit unsteady, but it had to be disorienting to suddenly be so large. “This is gonna take some getting used to...” Steve looked up, pushing his bangs from his face. 

“You’ll get used to it,” Thor smiled. “I’ll help you.” Now wasn’t exactly the time for flirting, but he couldn’t help himself. He was too pleased, too relieved. 

“You will?” Steve raised an eyebrow, taking the jacket that was handed to him and pulling it on over his shirt. 

_There is much more of you to love. And believe me I will love every inch of you. It might take me longer than before, but I look forward to it._ Thor kept his thoughts to himself and sighed, drawing Steve to him by the front of his shirt and hugging him. There was no substitute for the relief he felt having Steve’s weight and heat in his arms. Steve was as he’d always been to Thor. 

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, pulling away a little and frowning, taking his face and turning it a little to inspect where the chain had hit him. His eyes roamed up and down Thor’s body, noting the cuts and bites marks across it. 

None of them were too deep. “They’ll be healed before we reach home,” Thor nodded. “I’m alright, I promise.” 

Steve opened his mouth, but they both staggered as the ground shook beneath them, clutching at each other, eyes staring with dread up at the entrance to Mjolnir. The tree was shivering, bark creaking, and distant lightning crackling. _No. No, that’s not possible._ They both stared with dread at the opening, waiting, watching. Dark clouds bubbled out of the opening in the tree, and Thor’s blood ran cold as it swirled and clawed its way across the platform branch, spilling over the edges in tendrils. 

Black magic. And Thor only knew one spell. It wasn’t going to help them here. He pulled his sword out of the ground, and Steve picked up the nearest one, standing at his side ready to fight. 

Out of Mjolnir’s entrance swept the man in black robes, swarmed by thick black clouds that bubbled and oozed from the ground he walked on, absorbing the lively greens and washing everything it touched in a bath of evil. The air crackled with unbridled power. HYDRA’s leader stood on the branch, shadows creeping from his body to douse the godly glow of this sacred sanctuary. “Oh, you of little imagination!” the man cried out, spreading his hands, his eyes a bright white, and his skin almost as colorless. Black lines like bony fingers crept up his neck and around his face. The black clouds filling the dome of greenery were crackling with lightning, shuddering the ground with thunder threatening to build. “You find satisfaction in such meager offerings. In flesh and muscle. Asgard’s greatest ruler and warrior has never looked so narrow-minded and pathetic. Your power is inconsequential, Lord Thor.” 

Beside him, Steve growled, and the sound rumbled deep in his expanded chest. Thor stood his ground, watching, waiting to see what would happen. _If he attacks us, we cannot hope to defend with basic weapons and our bare hands._ But he would do his best. His kingdom depended on it, and he’d fought this far to continue his life with Steve at his side. He wasn’t about to give up that chance. “You aren’t worthy!” he yelled back. “Mjolnir won’t give it to you!” 

“Mjolnir already has.” The man’s hands sparked with bright white light, drawing bolts of energy from the clouds darkening everything. “Worthy, unworthy, none of it matters. Power does not wait for the right person – it must be taken. Those with the ingenuity and the determination are the only ones worthy, Your Highness. You simply lack vision.” 

“You tried your drug, and it wasn’t enough,” Thor kept on the conversation, watching the clouds brewing while he thought of a plan. He would think of something. Steve was watching too, taking it all in, not afraid at all, as usual. He was glad Steve was here to watch his back. “You think stolen power will be enough to destroy me, and my kingdom?” _And Steve? You think HYDRA can ever be powerful enough to destroy him, your strongest opposer? You tried, yet he stands here at my side, more ready to fight than ever._

“My drug will be more than enough against your armies, if not against you and your friend,” the man glanced to Steve and Thor could help but slide a little in front of him protectively. HYDRA wasn’t going to take anything else from Steve. The man laughed. “Oh, he’s not your friend, is he. Whatever he is, he won’t be that for long. Your power is nothing compared to what I have achieved.” 

It shouldn’t be possible. The point wasn’t power – it had _never_ been power. But it was too late. Whatever he and Steve had together was all they had to defend against this angry spear of black magic screaming toward them. Steve started to move, but Thor grabbed his arm, dropped his sword, and yanked the soldier close. He turned sideways and grasped Steve into his chest, blocking the path of the attack with his own body and throwing up his hand. All of it happened too fast for Steve to wriggle away, but not fast enough that he couldn’t yell something incoherent but angry and urgent. 

Thor wasn’t going to let him get hurt again. Not by HYDRA. He was ready to make any sacrifice, and shield Steve however was necessary to protect him. _You have suffered far more than your fair share. Let this be your well-earned respite. I won’t let them harm you._

The black exploded away, and it never touched them, spraying like water. Thor stared around, taking in his surroundings, checking that Steve was still safely hugged against him. The soldier was right there, staring. Between them and the black was a cloak of blue. 

A shield, perfect and unwavering, spreading over them in a dome. Searching clouds clawed at it, blast after blast striking the buffer, but none of it was getting through. Thor looked up at his raised hand. 

He’d done it. The magic was flowing through him, enabled by _something,_ though he wasn’t sure what. It could have been his pure desire to protect, or perhaps just that fact that he was here, and Mjolnir’s proximity was strengthening him. The means didn’t matter. Thor held his ground and grit his teeth, turning away from Steve so he could sink his weight into his feet and raise both hands into the shield. He could feel the magic flowing out of him, stemming from a place that was familiar. The dark clouds rolled over them like a tsunami, determined to break through the glowing blue shield and swallowing all light but what Thor’s magic provided. 

That shield held strong. Steve was at his side, wrapping an arm around his waist to give whatever support he could. The soldier’s mere presence gave him strength and focus, and the touch helped him. In that calming blue glow, they were safe. The darkness couldn’t touch them. 

The darkness battered against the shield, screaming like vengeful souls from the underworld. It was persistent, but Thor’s shield was stronger. Thor grit his teeth and sank his weight further into his heels, leaning into Steve’s arm and focusing on nothing more than their safety. The energy his spell needed, he could give, no matter how much it asked for. He could do it. He was powerful enough. 

The darkness gave up, eventually. And when it did, and the sky cleared, the forest was quiet. It was just the two of them, and the bodies strew in the underbrush. Panting, Thor leaned a little into Steve as he lowered his hands and the barrier, and they both looked around. HYDRA’s leader was gone. They really were alone. 

“You did it,” Steve was grabbing him, steadying and scrutinizing him. “You did it.” 

He had, somehow. All he could do was nod and catch his breath, glowing with pride even in his dread. 

Steve took his arm. “Are you alright?” 

Thor nodded darkly. Defending against such black and persistent magic had left him weary, but that too he could quickly recover from. “We need to go,” he bent to pick up his sword and sheathed it to his back, Steve on his heels. 

“He’ll be gathering his armies,” Steve agreed, watching Thor pull a blanket out of their bags, taking it when it was offered. It was cold beyond this warm wonderland. 

“We don’t have much time.” Thor leaped into the saddle and slid forward as far as he could to allow Steve to mount behind him. The soldier nimbly hopped into the saddle. It was a tight fit, but the weight at his back was warm and comforting. Steve wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and curled one arm around Thor’s waist, hugging firmly. Even with HYDRA probably about to march on Asgard, it was still too surreal to shake off that Steve was here with him. Thor cast one final glance back at Mjolnir, before spurring the horse back in Asgard’s direction. Steve’s left hand rested on his stomach, the ring just within his peripheral vision. 

He smiled. This was worth smiling for. 


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *warning* some sexy times at the end of the chapter, about the same 'intensity' as the last one. 
> 
> Of course, I welcome feedback of any kind on all my work - but smut is very new for me, so if you have anything specific to say about that, that'd be great! I know some people like to read it, some don't, so no worries if it's not for you. I'm just curious to know how it reads, since this is a new area for me. If it's something people enjoy reading, I might try to put it in where I think it fits, if the story calls for it. But if you don't like it, that's okay too! You're more than welcome to say.
> 
> And, certainly, if there are other story elements you want to see, you're always welcome to say! I've also got some feedback questions for the end concerning my future work, so you can always save it for then.
> 
> Thanks as always! More fightin' just around the corner.

The ground was a lot farther away than it used to be, but up here he had a better view of Thor’s face than he ever had. He could see all the colors, the pigments, the darker ring of blue around the irises he'd always noticed, but had never been able to appreciate the contrast. These eyes could see more than he ever could have imagined. 

The world had always been blurry and faded to him, but he’d never known any different. Not until he’d been given those glasses and some of the edges had sharpened. Not until now when he didn’t need glasses, and the world was bursting with color. Even in this forest cloaked in shadow, there was a lot to see. Steve had always known he couldn’t see color as well as everyone else, but he’d never imagined the world could look like this. 

He wished they could stop to observe it as they galloped out of the thicker forest and into the snow, but they couldn’t. There was no time. He would have to observe it from here, pressed against Thor’s back, holding the blanket tightly around himself and turning his face from the cold. Steve pushed his cheek into Thor’s shoulder, savoring the warmth of their proximity, the king’s hand squeezing his against his armored stomach. Steve had been prepared to die – not ready, but prepared. He’d always known his body was bound to fail him early. But he still here, with a long life ahead of him, impossibly. 

His thoughts drifted to previous conversations with Thor, about sickness and health. The scars on his back were gone, and he was never going to scar again. He wasn’t ever going to be bedridden for days simply because the weather changed. And he would be able to draw again, just as he had before the brand had taken his stability from him. Mjolnir had given him back everything he’d lost, and more. 

That concept held too much weight to process, so he stopped himself from trying and just held on to Thor tightly. They were together, and they would get through this fight looming just over the horizon. Now, Steve had the strength not just to keep up, but keep up with _Thor,_ the strongest man in Asgard, and beyond. It made him want to cry. 

He was strong enough to protect himself, and everyone he cared about. 

They only stopped for a break because the poor horse needed it. They slid off the saddle and Thor guided it under a tree safely out of the storm. The creature ate what Thor gave it, huffing and laying its head in the dirt while Steve combed it. 

“Dinner,” Thor sat down at his side, holding out some bread and fruit and a bit of meat. The bruise on his face looked vibrant and painful, fully developed. It was healing, just as everything always had, just as the rest of his cuts were. Soon, they would be erased. 

Steve took the food and set it aside, taking Thor’s face and turning his head. Experimentally, he took Thor by the front of his cape and pushed him to the ground, straddling his hips. Thor submitted, staring trustingly upward as Steve reached forward and dragged their bag backward and under the king’s head. This new body was more than capable of bending and twisting and reaching the snow piled around the edge of the protective cover of foliage. Steve scooped up a handful and pressed it into a ball, gently pressing it into Thor’s purple cheekbone and dragging it slowly down the bruise to the split in his jaw. 

Thor shivered and turned his head into Steve’s supportive hand cupping his cheek, admiring the curves of new muscle writhing under perfect skin as the soldier rubbed up and down. A faint flush was rising in the king’s cheeks, his breaths coming a bit faster, needier. Steve pressed the last bit of snow into Thor’s skin, grasping the king’s face with his damp hand and leaning over to kiss him. One arm snaked around his waist, the other slipping behind his head. Thor’s fingers wove into his hair, pulling the two of them tighter together. 

“I want your painting on the wall,” Thor drew back, a bit breathless and red with pleasure. He was shifting his hips, arching his back and moaning a little. He stroked down Steve’s face and neck, down his chest and grasping his hips, pulling them against his. “When the war is over.” 

“Only if you’ll be in it with me,” Steve argued, unsure how he felt about having a commemorative paining of him. Thor looked set, though. 

“It is tradition to have one of every member of the royal family,” Thor retorted, pulling down the collar of Steve’s shirt to kiss his collar bone. 

Steve fiddled with the buckles of Thor’s armor and worked it off, shedding his own jacket as he did so. He needed Thor’s muscle right up against him, with nothing in between, so he could know this was real. There wasn’t the time for sex – they needed to rest while they could. Well, Thor did. Steve felt better-rested than he ever had in his life, like he could run for days. But Thor probably hadn’t slept much for at least a week. “Shh,” Steve shushed as the king opened his mouth to insist again. “Shh. We can talk about it later. We should eat, and sleep while we can.” He pulled off Thor’s armor and pushed a commanding hand into his chest before turning to bring the food closer. 

Steve took off his own shirt, and they sat up against the horse’s flank, the blanket wrapped around both of them and their shoulders pressed together as they ate. When they were finished, Thor turned his body, holding up the blankets so Steve could crawl into his lap, his size be damned. They still fit together, even if it took a bit of adjustment. Thor still cradled him, undaunted by his added height, hugging him just as protectively. Steve found a good spot to rest his shoulder, pushing his face into Thor’s neck and drawing the blankets around them. He grasped Thor hand on his waist, drawing his long legs in. They slept in a warm, safe bundle. 

\-- 

The journey home was like a dream, cloaked in a mirage of dread mixing with this overwhelming sense of relief. In urgency, they raced for Asgard, and when the spires pushed above the treetops, the mirage broke, and the world felt real again. 

They were home. The last few days hadn’t been a dream. Steve really was alive and healthy. 

It had been some time since he’d seen the city. He hadn’t even been outside in a couple of weeks before Thor had taken him away to find Mjolnir. Steve looked around as they cantered through the streets. Color and sound bombarded him, but all of it was beautiful. It was like waking up from a lucid dream, pulling away from what you thought was real, from what was _almost_ detailed enough, only to find that it wasn’t. People he recognized stared with strange looks of deja-vu as their king rode by, a different man on the horse with him than when he’d left. Steve smiled at them, saw eyes widen when they saw his face. The citizens regarded him with wonder and disbelief, and everything in between. He blushed a little. 

They dismounted in front of the castle, the red flag flying from its turrets a lot more vibrant, and the white stone brighter. The horse’s hooves on the cobblestones rang deeper in his ears, and when he slid off and landed on his feet, his stance was steadier and his feet farther away. Another soldier came to take the horse away, staring incredulously at Steve. Steve recognized the man, and gave him a nod. 

“Steve...?” He looked up and saw Natasha at the top of the stairs, a mixture of emotions fighting for control of her face. He vaguely remembered her caring for him at his bedside, more open with her emotions than usual, broken and sorrowful. She’d cried for him. She was crying now, tears flying off her face as she ran down the stairs and jumped into his arms, squeezing him tightly. He drew her head into his chest, rubbing her beautiful red hair, enjoying the sound of her heartbeat. She pulled back and stood on her toes to grab his face and peer straight into his eyes, laughing wetly. “Steve.” She scanned him from top to bottom, stroking his floppy bangs and planting a fond kiss on his cheek. She fell into his chest and hugged him again, shaking her head. He had no idea what to say either. 

What were you supposed to say in situations like this? ‘Surprise’? It was a surprise for all of them, he could see it in Natasha’s eyes, could see it in Clint’s when the archer came running. Steve let go of Natasha with one arm to welcome his other friend into the embrace. It was so strange to be taller than them, to be able to wrap himself around both of them. 

“Steve!” That was Tony launching himself into the huddle, overtaking the growing cluster of soldiers and gathering to see what the fuss was about. The blacksmith shouldered his way closer, staring agape at his friend’s increased size but not holding back from offering a huge, relieved hug. 

Thor stood back and watched, a soft smile on his face as his court flocked to the soldier. Soon, the front steps were swarmed with the army, and a few other castle-workers running to join in with the commotion. Word rippled outward, but they could all see that that head of blonde hair poking up through the middle of the crowd was their Steve. Those were Steve’s eyes, Steve’s smile. Steve could see in their eyes that they recognized him, even if not all of them entirely understood what had happened. 

He looked up, and saw Bruce at the top of the stairs, watching everything with a gentle smile and tears in his eyes. Steve broke away from the hug and pushed through the crowd, running up the steps as fast as he could. The doctor froze as Steve barreled toward him, rigid at first as the soldier wrapped him in a tight hug, but melting into it and reciprocating. 

Bruce wasn’t a touchy person, but he was touching Steve, grabbing him by the shoulders and staring with teary eyes just like everyone else. “You’re back,” he smiled, sniffing and rubbing at his eyes, but making no effort to hide how pleased he was. Right now, he was just a friend, and not a doctor. 

“Yeah,” Steve smiled back, blinking away tears of his own. “Didn’t miss me for too long, I hope.” 

“Not at all,” Bruce rubbed a wet streak off his cheek and wiped his hands on his shirt. 

The others came over to stand with them, and Thor looped his arm through Steve’s. “We have much to discuss,” he admitted. “Urgently.” 

Bruce darkened and pointed over Steve’s shoulder, and they all turned to look at the dark stain far, far away in the sky. Not so far that they couldn’t see it, though, and that was no storm of nature. That was _black,_ bubbling and alive. Evil. “That just appeared this morning,” the doctor explained. “I wouldn’t suppose you’d know what it is?” 

“I could take an educated guess,” Thor darkened, and Steve nodded grimly in agreement. It was a shame to end this happy reunion, but there was no time for it. 

“Planning room,” Bruce spun around, and the other five followed, leaving the rest of the court to disperse. 

“We’ve been practicing more magic,” Tony jogged along beside them, his shorter legs struggling to keep up with Steve’s longer stride. Urgency was propelling Steve quickly, but with such ease he hadn’t even realized his own speed. He slowed a little, and nodded at his friend. 

“We’ll need it,” he agreed, nudging the door open the rest of the way as he followed Bruce into the room, and they all gathered around the main table. Thor brought the map back over and spread it across the surface, and Steve pointed. “If that black is roughly in this direction, and about this far away... That means HYDRA could reach Asgard in less than three days. They’ll probably mobilize and wait a day before actually attacking, but it won’t be long.” 

“HYDRA’s leader met us at Mjolnir,” Thor was barely restraining a growl. “He used black magic to trick it into giving him power.” 

Tony curled his lip. “Shmidt,” he hissed. “He’s a bastard.” 

“You met him?” Steve looked over. 

“I more than met him,” Tony agreed. “He’s the one who tried to get me to make all those weapons. He even tried to get me to help him make that enhancement powder, but I tricked him into thinking I wasn’t any good at chemistry, and he left me alone about it. Anyway, he’s a nasty son of a bitch.” 

“Do you know anything about him?” Steve asked hopefully. 

“His favorite things are beating prisoners, and talking about power,” Tony dryly ticked them off on his fingers. “Oh, and he wants to destroy Asgard. Other than that, no idea. He doesn’t have any special weaknesses. He’s just one evil bastard.” 

“Then we can defeat him,” Steve assured, looking around the room at his friends. They would, together. He lingered his gaze on Thor, and gave the king a nod. “We won’t let him destroy or overtake Asgard.” 

“We need a plan,” Natasha agreed, staring at the map, then up at Steve. “Captain?” 

This time, it wasn’t a joke or a reassurance – she meant it. They _all_ meant it, staring at him for guidance, ready to submit to his orders just as they always had. Steve met all of their gazes, even Thor’s, who was ready to follow him into battle. Steve set his jaw. _A plan? I can do that._ “Alright. We need to keep him from getting through the walls, first of all. We need to protect the citizens, and meet HYDRA halfway. They want to fight on our land, and we can’t let them. Worst comes to worst, we need somewhere to fall back to, and if we wait for them to come to use, we’re trapped in our own walls.” 

“We’ve been getting pretty good at that shield spell,” Tony suggested, looking over at Bruce. “If we could make it big enough to protect the whole city...” 

“Make it happen,” Steve agreed. 

“I can do that,” Thor interjected. “I will learn. I have the power to hold it and fight at once. You two are much better at other magic than I am, and we need you on the battlefield.” 

Tony’s lips curled into a grin, and Steve could practically see the fireballs lighting up his eyes. “Can do, Your Highness.” Bruce was nodded too, ready to fight alongside them. 

“We know the shields can hold back black magic,” Steve explained. “We’ll need to find out as quickly as we can what else can protect against it, so we’ll need to do some quick experimentation on the field.” 

“We can try teach as many soldiers the shield spell as we can,” Bruce agreed. “We’ve already started, and I think most of them should be able to manage it.” 

“Good,” Steve agreed. “We also need a way to counter the doping powder. Shmidt had bears and wolves with him when we met him at Mjolnir, and he’d given it to them. He’ll probably give it to his soldiers, too.” 

“I might have a spell that can help,” Bruce piped up. 

“And I can pick them off from a distance,” Clint chimed in. 

“We might need you to take down Shmidt, too,” Steve looked to the archer. “It might be hard to get close to him, so we’ll have to find a way to get to him.” 

“Wouldn’t be too hard to enchant a few arrows,” Tony suggested, thoughtfully rubbing his fingers together. 

“I can look for weak spots,” Natasha folded her arms over her chest. 

“If you stay close, I can keep attacks off your back,” Steve nodded. That would give the spy a chance to use her eyes and ears without having to focus so much on the fight. “Meanwhile, Thor and I will deal with the heavy-hitters. If HYDRA is bringing more of their doped-up animals, we need to stop them before they can ravage our ranks.” Only the two of them were strong enough to wrestle a bear. 

They had a plan. 

“We’ll ride out in two days’ time and be ready for HYDRA to meet us,” Steve explained. “Until then, we should get ready. Tony, Bruce. Gather the soldiers, keep training with them. Thor, you too.” The shield spell might be their best defense. “Nat, Clint, with me. I’ll get my shield.” Everything was going to be a lot different, yet in every way not, because it was still all six of them. Their little family. 

\-- 

His mother had always told him he was due a growth spurt at some point. It had never really happened. Steve wished his mother could see him, just as she’d always hoped he’d be: strong and healthy, unburdened by ailments of any kind. Sarah Rogers had always given her pleas at his bedside, when she thought he couldn’t hear her, but he had, once or twice. She’d begged the gods for her son’s safety, begged them to take these burdens away from him. 

Steve got to his knee at the headstone and set the edge of his shield in the snow, bowing his head. It had been some time since he’d been up to visit. He’d have been bigger than Bucky, now. _Hey Buck. You’d have missed_ _bein_ _’ able to throw me over your shoulder. But you’d get used to it. Wouldn’t have had to drag me out of fights anymore,_ _wonderin_ _’ if I’d get a lung infection again and this time it’d finish me off. Still_ _gonna_ _run into a fight probably too big for me. But what else am I_ _gonna_ _do?_ Bucky had carried him here, with his dying breath. Whatever Steve accomplished on the battlefield, whatever he had now, he owed it to his friend. He owed his new friends, his family, this impossible life in a castle, with a king. Steve stared at the ring on his finger. _Even though you’re not around, you still keep on giving._

_I know you’re watching up there somewhere._ Bucky and his ma could see him, and all of this that he had. They knew that he was happy. _Still need somebody to take care of my stupid ass, though._ Steve smiled to himself and wiped his eyes. Regardless of his new strength, this battle was going to be a hard one, and dangerous. Even more dangerous than all his fights had been when his body had been smaller. 

_I really miss you._ He gave up trying to pretend to be calm, and folded his arms on the shield, resting his forehead on them and letting the tears come. He wished his ma were there to see how happy he was. He was going to get married. _Married._ To a _king._ And his mother and brother weren’t there to see it. The two people who had gotten him free of every chain trying to wrap around him and drag him to the afterlife. 

At the sound of splitting and creaking, he lifted his head and stared at the ground between his shield and the headstone. A little green sprout was emerging from the snow, bravely pushing up through the cold white and twisting, leaves budding and the bulb swelling before bursting open. Bright yellow petals opened up the green shell and sprouted free, and the flower grew and grew until it was level with his face. The seeds spiraled from the center, and he stared, fixated. A proud, vibrant sunflower swayed gently before him. He turned around and looked up. 

Thor was there, standing a respectful step of two behind, hands raised, wearing a soft, sad smile. “Hello.” 

“Hey,” Steve sighed, resting his chin on his arms and staring at the sunflower. 

“Can I sit with you?” 

Steve huffed his affirmation, and Thor sat, brushing aside some snow and crossing his legs. Steve turned off his knee and sat heavily, laying his shield beside him and tipping sideways. Thor’s shoulder was just a bit below his head when he rested it there. 

“They would be proud of you.” Thor’s arm wrapped tightly around his waist, his other hand stroking back his bangs. “But I hope to keep you many more years, so they may have to wait a while to tell you in person.” 

Steve smiled and rubbed his eyes, sliding a bit closer. Thor responded, hugging him tightly and rubbing his shoulder with his thumb. 

“I wish my mother were here to see you too,” Thor held him. “And my brother. Even my father. He and I had our differences, but he would have warmed to you. Even before Mjolnir.” 

“What were you like before?” Steve asked, turning his head a bit to search Thor’s face and try to imagine him a third the size. “Did you... grow?” 

Thor chuckled, resting his head on top of Steve’s. “Perhaps an inch or two. I confess that I did not expect such a dramatic transformation. I would have warned you had I known.” 

“It’s alright,” Steve smiled. “I’ll live. It’s a bit weird, but I think I’ll get used to it.” 

“And I will love you regardless,” Thor kissed the top of his head. “You are beautiful to me, any size. Though I must admit, I do quite like this.” And his hand moved, sliding under Steve’s shirt to grab his chest. 

Steve blushed and half-heartedly pushed him away. “Hey! My mom’s watching.” 

“I apologize,” Thor was smirking when he loomed over. “I’ll save it for later.” 

It was already starting to get dark. They’d been training all day, without hardly a pause. And Steve wasn’t tired or sore. He stared fondly at the sunflower. “You’re getting really good at that,” he noted. “I’m proud of you.” 

“Seems my mother managed to teach me a thing or two after all,” Thor stared at his creation. “What flowers did your mother like?” 

Steve frowned. He wasn’t sure they’d ever seen many exotic flowers in their little village, other than medicinal plants and dandelions. His ma had always liked powder blues, but then, she’d never seen how bright flowers could be. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “She did think cornflowers were pretty.” 

Thor hummed softly and freed his hands, holding them out. Steve watched his fingers with fascination, then the snow as it began to tremble, blue petals rupturing free. The soft petals shimmered faintly purple, a pigment Steve had never seen before. Yeah, his mother would have really liked these. 

“Orchids,” Thor explained, lowering his hands and squeezing Steve again. “Another of Mother’s favorites.” 

“I think our moms would have been friends,” Steve remarked, admiring the flowers. 

“I think they probably are,” Thor agreed. “Come on. Dinner. You must be hungry.” He started to get up, pulling Steve with him. 

“Missing our bed,” the soldier agreed, grabbing his shield and sliding his arm through the straps. He couldn’t fit them round his shoulders anymore. 

“How did your practice go?” Thor linked their arms and led him back down toward the castle. 

“Really well,” Steve smiled proudly, lifting his arm with the shield strapped to it. “I can throw this a lot better now, that’s for sure. It’s... it’s a lot. I’m worried I’ll hurt someone. The wrong people, I mean... Did you accidentally hurt anyone? When, you know, it happened to you...?” 

Thor smiled on in reminiscence as they walked up the steps and into the castle, arm-in-arm. “You won’t hurt anyone, Steve. You trusted me not to hurt you, so I know you in-turn won’t hurt anyone else. I’m sure I bruised poor Bruce’s ribs with the first couple of hugs, but I got used to my strength, and so will you. You’ll have plenty of opportunity to test it soon anyway.” 

Oh yes, the war. Steve had no doubt he was going to learn a hell of a lot about his new body and its limits. The world moved at an entirely different pace now, and he could feel how much faster his brain was processing everything his senses were feeding him. His instincts were heightened, too. He’d already done one accidental front-flip in training today, which his body had easily executed, perfectly balanced and strong enough to jump high enough that his huge body could perform a full turn in the air. His shield, too, handled a lot differently. On the first throw, it had bounced right back into his hand off a tree. On the second, he’d managed two bounces. 

“Come on, let’s go to the painting room,” Thor was taking his hand and lacing their fingers, starting to pull him away from their room. “I want to show you something.” 

Curiously, Steve trailed after the king. They took the stairs two at a time, and his long legs propelled him up with great agility. He practically leapt up them like a gazelle, and his lungs happily drew in a bit more air to compensate, not troubled by the strain. Thor could hardly get the door open he looked so excited, inviting him inside and gently pulling the shield off his arm, gesturing to the easel. It was right where Steve had left it. 

Thor set the shield on the floor and followed him to the canvas Steve had last been working on. There was hardly any paint on it, but the colors looked... different. They _were_ different. There were pigments mixed in he’d never noticed before, never _seen_ with his own eyes. Some of the shades were more variant than he recalled, too, and he could see it all, everything he thought had been smooth and uniform actually filled with imperfection. 

A _beautiful_ sort of imperfection. Steve walked up to the canvas and stared at it, recognizing those shaky strokes. He could really see it now, every tremor in every brush stroke. Strokes that hadn’t been blended in with the color beneath as it had looked before. 

“I want you to see how beautiful your paintings are,” Thor was already pulling a finished one from a stack by the wall and resting it upright on another easel. Steve turned, and the landscape took his breath away. 

Some of the colors were not laid down as he’d intended – and how could he have intended to blend colors he couldn’t even see properly? Colors that until now, he hadn’t known existed? Steve walked slowly over, starting to lose this magical stability in his body. His knees were shaking as he walked over and ran his thumb across the dried brush strokes. 

Thor wasn’t finished. He was pulling out more paintings and spreading them across the table, and when those were all laid out, he started to arrange jars of paint pigment from drawers. 

Reds were... _red_ . His favorite blue-green was even greener, even more beautiful. Purples were richer. There were so many more hues of green than he’d ever realized, so many levels of saturation and brightness. Some of his color choices were odd, but somehow most of them worked. There were so many more colors layered underneath that he’d never noticed, blending everything together into one cohesive image that it didn’t _matter_ if that wasn’t quite the right shade of green; the streaks of color shining underneath pulled the whole thing together. 

The details were blurring, shapes and textured he’d never been able to distinguish but remembered painting them by his brush strokes suddenly hazy again. He was crying, tears filling his eyes and spilling out. So much color had been right in front of his eyes, and now he could see it. There were no words for that. 

Thor was at his side, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to steady him, sharing in the moment. Steve sobbed, covering his face with both hands, overcome by this wave of feelings. 

Finally, Thor pulled his hands away and wiped at the tears, a little teared-up himself. “I can’t wait to see what you’ll paint next,” he took Steve’s wrist and held up the hand. “And what you will draw. You were incredible before. I cannot imagine how incredible you are now.” With a steady hand, Steve could show Thor just how well he could draw. 

“Can’t wait either,” Steve huffed a laugh and wiped his eyes, looking back at the wall of color beside them, then at Thor, and into his eyes. He might never get tired of the pigments in Thor’s ocean blue eyes, of the layers of golds and dusty brown in his hair, the soft pink of his lips. “And just when I thought you couldn’t get any more beautiful.” 

Thor opened his mouth, but Steve cut him off. He didn’t want to hear it. He was strong enough to contend with the king now, and made good use of that, bending the other man toward him by grabbing handfuls of shirt and tugging him closer. The soldier kissed him, taking charge as he had in the past, but with something to back it up with. He teased with his tongue, and Thor let him in, but Steve pulled back, smiling. It was his turn to grab Thor’s wrist and lead him for the door. 

It was his turn to make Thor feel good. They both wanted it, were both longing to have nothing between them, not a single inch of cloth, just skin on skin. Thor let himself be pulled along, and Steve led him away, scooping up his shield and giving the king barely the time to lock the door before he was striding to their room, overcome by a desire he was well familiar with. 

It was just the same feeling he’d had when they’d first kissed, a hungry need that was new – Steve supposed he was sort-of a virgin again. This body was brand new, and had yet to be explored. He wanted Thor to explore it and love every inch of it, as the king had before his physique had been barely passable. 

That was going to wait another day, though, because Steve was finally going to be able to give Thor what Thor had given to him. It might be a learning curve, but he was ready for that challenge. Thor was the same Thor, and Steve was still Steve; he just had more to give now. He was going to melt Thor to pudding in his hands, leave him breathless and useless and feeling nothing but bliss. Now seemed like a good time. 

_War won’t kill us. We’re both going to make it out of this._

_But, we don’t exactly need to wait for anything._

Thor had been taking care of him non-stop for weeks, especially since falling ill. What Steve could never say with his mouth, he was going to give it his best damn shot saying it with his body. He nudged open their bedroom door, dropped his shield on the floor, and grabbed Thor by the front of his shirt, spinning him around and pushing him back toward the bed, pushing him onto the sheets. 

Thor was already aroused, already panting and struggling to hold himself together, fumbling with Steve’s shirt. Steve batted him aside and pulled it off himself, sure of himself, sure of them. He worked off his boots faster than Thor could get his off, and helped the king the rest of the way. He loosened his belt and stepped out of his pants, moving smoothly while Thor floundered. Steve yanked the king’s pants off and then went for his shirt. He threw back the blankets and shoved Thor onto the sheet. Thor, trusting, pushed himself backward into the pillows. 

“Steve,” he huffed, flushed and aroused. “Steve, let me-” 

“No,” Steve pushed a hand into his chest and held him firmly into the bed, grabbing a handful of thigh with the other. “No. It’s my turn. Let me. Unless you don’t want it-” 

“I do.” Thor shivered, shifting his hips, wrapping a hand around Steve’s waist to pull him desperately closer. “I do,” he groaned. 

“Then let me,” Steve bent over and kissed him. _Be quiet, and let me do this for you. Let me take care of you._ “You’ve taken care of me for so long, since the beginning, in life, in sex, when I was sick. You gave me this. Now let me give it back.” 

Thor shuddered and let Steve inside his mouth. Steve didn’t hold back this time, kissing with force and control. He could hold his own now, could handle a long, powerful kiss without a problem. _This is just the beginning. I’m going to make you feel as good as you’ve made me feel. Better. I can do better. I can give what you always could, and your body can take it._ There wasn’t a risk of overworking himself now. They didn’t have to go slow like they had before, but Steve would ease into it, get a feel for his own strength and remind himself what Thor liked while learning what his body could do to the king. Thor liked to be _handled_ from time to time, and Steve had always tried, but now he could actually _shove_ the king a bit further up the pillows. 

Thor’s back arched, his hips lifting up. _I’ll get to that._ Steve pushed them down and held, kissing a bit harder, then pulling back. Thor’s hands grabbed handfuls of flesh where there had never been much. _Patience._ Steve worked one of Thor’s hands off his waist and laced their fingers, pushing the hand into the pillows and trapping it there. Steve kissed down his arm, grabbing a handful of breast and squeezing, pushing a bit. He kissed that, too, enjoying the smoothness of the muscle with his lips. He kept his hand where it was and kissed higher, up Thor’s neck to his ear, kissing behind it. Thor trembled in his grip, at his mercy, ready and willing for whatever the soldier had in store for him, _desperate_ for what Steve was keeping from him. 

“S-Steve,” the king shuddered. “Steve, please...” 

They were so close, writhing against each other, rubbing up against each other. So close. “Shh,” Steve ordered, kissing Thor’s bearded cheek and across to his lips. “Shh.” 

“You would make a king wait?” Thor stared at him, a smirk playing at his lips but a moan of pleasure tearing it away as Steve grabbed him and squeezed his words away. 

“Let me take care of you,” Steve hushed in a raspy whisper. “Let me do it.” 

Thor wasn’t fighting him anymore, just squirming a bit, his focus starting to drift as his eyes told tales of pleasure. He was completely vulnerable, and ready. 

The gift had changed his whole body. Every inch. _Let me take care of you._ Steve got adjusted. His body knew how to angle himself, even if his brain didn’t. He juggled Thor’s body, lifting the king’s hips into his lap and sliding closer, closer. 

The differences were massive. Steve had given before, but it had never had quite this effect. This was not the first time he’d managed to get that dazed look into Thor’s eyes, but it was the first time he’d managed to rouse it with such ferocity and intensity. It was the first time he’d managed to get this far without feeling weary and strained. Thor was tight, so Steve went slow and steady, feeling his way, pushing a little harder once he was most of the way in and knew that Thor could take it. He shifted a bit, to the king’s warbled cry, and pushed him a bit higher up the pillows so he could draw Thor’s chest toward him and kiss it. Steve gave it a bit of a test thrust, and Thor moaned, falling forward into his arms. 

“Hold on to me,” Steve whispered, wrapping a supportive arm around Thor’s waist. The king obeyed, but he could barely grip, and Steve was feeling a bit weak as well. Thor was on the cusp, he could feel it. He could tip the king over the edge, get him to that place where the world was white and everything was warm. Steve rolled, perfectly coordinating both of them. Thor had no control, no strength. Steve loomed over him, drawing back and thrusting back in with a bit more confidence now that they were connected and everything was a bit looser. He planted one hand on the sheets by Thor’s head, and grabbed him with the other, trusting again, squeezing. _I can get you there, I can make you feel that. I can take care of you._

For once in his life, he could take care of Thor properly, as he deserved to be taken care of. And who else would be able to keep up with the king? Steve was the only one. That was a duty he was proud to bare. This was going to go the other way too – he could already feel that it was going to take far more than it had to render his smaller, weaker body to bliss. 

But he was getting there too, despite holding himself back so he could retain himself and keep giving. He gave and gave, and finally, Thor released, totally loose and his eyes rolling back. His lips were parted, and he was panting slightly. Steve didn’t afford him any mercy, thrusting again, finalizing that moment of ecstasy. Thor was truly limp beneath him. Steve pulled free and leaned closer, kissing his cheeks and cradling his head with a hand. He didn’t want the feeling to die, wanted it to last as long as it could. He ran his other hand up and down Thor’s thigh, rubbing the muscle and feeling the smooth, warm skin. 

Thor recovered, breathing heavily, pushing his heel into the sheets. He stared up reverently, speechless. Steve smiled and chuckled fondly, rubbing their cheeks together. He liked the beard rubbing into his smooth jaw. “You liked that?” he whispered, not slowing. He could keep going for a while yet. 

Thor nodded, searching his hands up Steve’s back, feeling the unblemished skin there, mumbling something of a jumbled yes. But he was catching his breath already, slowly regaining himself. 

“Again?” Steve smiled. 

Yes, again. Thor could keep this up for a while too. The king nodded. 

“Good,” Steve came closer, giving more teasing kisses around Thor’s swollen lips. “As you wish, Your Highness.” He would give Thor a minute or two to recover, though. That was only fair. Just those couple of minutes, though: Steve was desperate for more too, and didn’t fancy waiting too long. He could hardly contain himself now that they were here, and he was _capable_ of so much more. Thor wasn’t going to have to slow down for him again, or sacrifice his own satisfaction to meet Steve’s needs. 

They kissed, unable to completely stop even as they recovered. Steve already knew what he was going to do differently, how he was going to make Thor feel even better, tired him out, really tease this out and drive the king to madness. He didn’t give a warning, waiting instead for when Thor started to speak to cut him off and start this off all over. 

It was going to be a long, long night. But that was fine, even with war just a few days away. There was time to rest, and neither of them needed much sleep to catch up. Right now was the time to be happy and just enjoy each other. Right now was the time to feel good, to admire each other, and be thankful. 

It took a few rounds before both of them were too tired to continue. Well, Thor was completely taxed. Steve had a bit left in him, and he was more than happy to slump out of bed to get some water and clean them both up. He got to hold Thor’s body in his arms and pull it into his lap, and it didn’t feel weird at all. He wrapped the blankets around both of them, drawing Thor’s head into his shoulder. Thor fell asleep, a soft smile on his lips. He looked so happy, but tired. He needed the rest, had needed to be taken care of for once, properly. _And we’ll do that many times more._


	29. Chapter 29

There was no way to get that shield on his back. 

“I think I know what to do...” Tony inspected it, examining the straps. “I can make you something. Later, of course...” When the war was over.

Steve nodded his thanks. The inventor would come up with something. “Are you ready?”

“More than ready,” Tony nodded back. He looked like he was itching to use the spells he’d been practicing so hard with. Steve had a feeling that those fields between HYDRA’s advancing black cloud and  Asgard’s walls were going to be thoroughly scorched by the time this was over. That was fine. Steve would be more than happy to watch HYDRA burn.

They were leaving today. Everything was as ready as it could be, and they needed to meet HYDRA before they got too close to the walls.

Steve led the way back down to the armory, and the others weren’t far behind. The other soldiers were arriving too, pulling on the armor and weapons Tony had been working on for the past couple of months. Steve strapped leather around his chest, cinching the straps. He strapped bracers to his arms and flexed experimentally, enjoying the feeling of strength. This was the ultimate victory: HYDRA had tried to cut him down, his body and his spirit, but he was still here. In a roundabout way, they had led him to this. He looked around at his friends, all of them ready to follow him into battle and fight for the same cause as him. He smiled.

Bruce was there too, struggling into some armor. Steve came over to help, tucking the lightweight  Vibranium chest plate around the doctor’s body, searching for the clasps. Tony was a brilliant designer, and the buckles came together easily, fitting snugly in place. “Thanks,” Bruce smiled, picking up his belt and strapping a sword to his waist. Steve smiled back.

Thor appeared, his sword on his back and his red cape cascading off his shoulders. He’d tied all of his hair back, accentuating his strong jaw. The soldiers turned to watch their king stride through them to stop at Steve’s side.

They led the way out together. Steve mounted his usual horse. It really was big... How had he managed to climb into the saddle before? The creature greeted him with familiarity, and he patted its neck, trotting out into the sun to wait for the others. Thor came to his side, the other four just behind, and the army spilling out of the stables in pursuit. All of Asgard’s army trotted into the streets, and picked up pace. The people already knew, were gathered along the streets to watch their king ride by. They would be safe here. Thor had been working hard to perfect the shield spell, using all his focus and determination to be capable of summoning something large and strong enough to protect the entire city from black magic.

He had succeeded. They paused outside the city walls and Thor slid out of the saddle, getting to his knee and placing his palm in the snowy grass. He closed his eyes and squared his jaw. Steve watched intently. _You can do it. I know you can._ Asgard’s king glowed, and the spell rippled away from him, spreading and growing. The air shimmered a gentle blue, strengthening until the whole kingdom was shrouded in a transparent but very present barrier. It held firm, and Thor stood up, turning and walking back to his horse. There was a bead of sweat on his forehead, but it wasn’t taking him so much effort that his fighting would be hindered. The king hopped back into the saddle and led them off again, leaving Asgard behind them, safe.

Ahead, the black ate at the sky, destroying the blue, burning away soft clouds and the bright sun. Across the rolling hills covered in layers of powdery snow was emerging a swarm of black. Thor raised his hands and his army spread out behind him. Steve came to a stop beside him and turned, his shield on his arm, the Asgardian star shining in the last few rays of sun. There was no time to form ranks. HYDRA was coming, and they weren’t going to stop for formalities. They had minutes.

The army was ready to follow him. Thor was standing back, letting him take the lead. Everything ended today. Steve tightened his shield straps around his arm and turned his horse away from  Asgard’s gathered ranks. Everybody knew the plan. They could see HYDRA gathering speed across the landscape, gaining rapidly, a tapestry of black trampling the snow.

“ Asgard !” Thor was yelling just behind him. “On my mark!” And the king looked to Steve.

There was no reason to wait any longer. He gave a nod, and Thor nodded back, holding up his arm and shouting the call. Steve spurred his horse, and the animal leapt fearlessly forward, Thor’s following a second behind, and the army on their tails.

Steve’s horse was a lot bigger than Thor’s and so rapidly gained ground, heading the charge. He could already see HYDRA’s soldiers racing to meet them, some on horseback, the ones behind on foot, and wild animals dotted among them. Steve lifted his hips out of the saddle and slipped the shield off his arm, grabbing it by the edge, ready to split the dark army through the middle. He threw his shield and kicked his feet free of the stirrups, jumping off his horse at a slobbering, red-eyed bear. He got his whole body around its neck and bent it backward with his speed and weight behind the impact. His shield bounced off an enemy head and into his hand, and he caught as he rolled free, jamming the edge into the poor animal’s throat. No amount of doping would let it push through a crushed throat. Steve pushed free and stood up, leaving it to flail weakly.

Asgard was right behind him, stabbing into the opposing army with Thor at their head. The king dismounted too, brandishing his bare hands more dangerous than any sword and plunging straight into battle. Together, he and Steve carved their way into the ranks to let the army through.

These soldiers were drugged, too. They were moving too frantically for it to be normal, their pupils narrowed and hyper-focused. They still weren’t much of a fight for Steve, though, because he could fell a man with a single punch, and no drug was powerful enough to protect against that. Steve swept out his arm and smashed a soldier to the ground with his shield, and smashed his fist square into the face of another. Both blows were fatal. Neither man had a chance to raise their swords.

No-one in arm’s reach was getting by him, not even the horse charging threateningly toward him, the rider drawing his sword in preparation to cut him down. Steve was faster than a horse. He rolled on his shield to the opposite side, where the sword wouldn’t touch him, and jumped as the beast thundered by, wrapping his arm around its neck and flinging his body around, kicking the man out of the saddle. The horse came down too, and they all skidded in a flurry of snow and dirt. While the horse struggled, Steve completed his roll and ended up on his feet, completely aware of his orientation at any moment, no matter how fast he was spinning. The other soldier was struggling to stand up, his side crushed by Steve’s kick. Drugs wouldn’t help him breathe through crushed ribs. There were other enemies on-foot running to surround him. Steve didn’t really think as he snapped his eyes from one man to the next, his brain coming to conclusions faster than they could decide to attack him. They swarmed, and he’d been able to tell that they would, somehow. Something in the minute way they shifted their weight.

He threw his shield, and it bounced off the first soldier, into a second, then back to his hand even as he moved for a third. Steve ducked a swinging sword, landing his weight in his hips to slide across the packed snow. He was turning his body and his shield at once, pushing the disk up under the soldier’s ribs and throwing him up as he himself stood. The soldier was flung up and back into the chaos of battle, quickly crushed under the stampede of Asgardian horses filling the space their two enhanced leaders were gouging. Steve settled his stance quickly, just in time to protect himself from the sword swinging down toward him. He was already in place to defend against it, and the blow was nothing for him to hold against. He swept his arm outward and knocked the weapon aside, jumping like he’d seen Natasha do a thousand times and kicking the man in the chest so hard he flew backward into his approaching colleague, speared on his brandished weapon. Steve devoured the distance between them and finished off both men with two  rapid bashed with his shield.

Something to his left exploded, and he spotted Tony racing ahead of the charge, fire shooting out of his hands and blasting more HYDRA soldiers out of their way. Clint came up alongside him, and held out an arrow. Tony grabbed the feathers, and they lit up with bright flame. The archer smirked and turned, shooting the arrow straight into the chest of a bear barreling for  Asgard’s soldiers. It struck true, of course, the head piercing the animal’s chest and the fire catching in its fur. It kept moving with momentum, tumbling into the HYDRA soldiers in its way.  Asgard diverted to avoid it, and didn’t slow the charge.

Steve had no spells, but he was doing just fine with his fists and shield alone. To the other side of the charge, he could see a flurry of Thor, the king’s blonde ponytail flying wildly about as he threw enemies this way and that. Bruce was there too, staying close to Natasha while she fought expertly around him, and he did his best to help her with his magic shield. They had both dismounted, and were fighting their way alongside the stampede of horses. A small pack of three wolves had already set their sights on the pair. Steve ran to intercept them, and threw his shield. It spun straight forward, bouncing off the skull of the leading wolf and right back into his hand. The other two snapped their jaws at him, eyes wide and wild, focused only on the kill. Steve planted himself between his friends and the two wild animals. He threw the first one aside with his shield and punched the other across the muzzle before it could sink its teeth into his arm. The blows were strong enough to kill. Steve stepped back to join the pair, moving to wedge Bruce in the middle.

“Got any other spells?” he glanced back at the doctor as he defended against a flailing enemy soldier, sword blows bouncing off his shield. A kick, and the soldier was done away with. Between Natasha’s spinning blades and Steve’s shield, Bruce had the chance to experiment a little.

“Hang on,” Bruce ducked completely behind the safety of Steve’s size and started to move his hands while his friend dispatched of the next couple of enemies. “Duck!”

Steve dropped to his knee and held up his shield. Bruce’s hands appeared over his shoulder, and the air rippled by his ear, visibly and audibly. The ground trembled and cracked, pushing up in places with a blast of dirt, spreading outward and toppling HYDRA soldiers. Steve opened his mouth, but Tony was already riding by, lighting up the now-stationary enemies in raging flame.

“Nice one,” Natasha nodded, impressed, and Steve nodded too, rising. More HYDRA were already spilling in to fill the gap their defeated comrades had left.

The question was; where was their leader? Presumably the one causing all this black filling the entire sky? The sky was only getting darker and darker as the clouds blocked out every inch of it. Soon there would be only the distant glow of Thor’s barrier protecting Asgard. That wouldn’t be enough to fight by. Steve looked around. He could see well enough, even in this dimming light, but the others wouldn’t do so well. Tony’s fireballs flying this way and that weren’t a permanent lighting solution, and it didn’t solve the problem that Shmidt was out here somewhere.

Somewhere...

The HYDRA soldiers couldn’t see either, but it was still going to be a bloodbath if only Steve and Thor were able to see. They couldn’t protect everyone, or defeat every enemy on their own. At least there weren’t too many drugged animals left, the last bear loping toward their huddled trio. Bruce raised hesitant hands with a determined jaw, but Steve nudged him back and took a threatening step forward.

The bear snarled, its massive tongue slobbering over bared fangs. Steve spun in a tight circle as he bounced his shield into the packed snow and frozen dirt. He jumped and swapped legs, pushing his heel under the rim of the disk and kicking it straight into the animal’s throat. The bear toppled, choking. Natasha appeared beside him, and killed it with one swift slash. 

“We can’t keep this up too much longer,” she pointed behind him, and he turned to see the last square of sky about to be swallowed,  Asgard still safe in the distance under Thor’s barrier.

Soon, this whole landscape would be plunged into darkness. It was already too dark to see much, especially for the others. Steve could still see his friends, could still tell friend from enemy, but when that last window of natural light was gone, in mere minutes? Tony was blasting fire into the sky intermittently, casting the battlefield in an orange glow, but it wasn’t a consistent solution.

Natasha and Bruce huddled to Steve, Bruce’s expression set as he started to weave a spell, his palms flickering with white light. He was struggling with it. There wasn’t much chance for him to keep trying, either, because enemy soldiers were swarming them. Steve and Natasha raised their weapons, and Bruce gave up on his spell, opting for a destructive one instead to defend against the onslaught trying to suffocate them.

A pillar of black struck down from the sky too close. Steve got to his knee and drew his friends under his shield, and Bruce threw up his hands, covering them in a dome of blue. Those clouds reached down like hands, clawing for  Asgard’s soldiers. Through the flurry of black, Steve could see shields being thrown up as the soldiers defended themselves. He saw a glimpse of Tony, maintaining a shield large enough to protect at least a  score of Asgardians, Thor included in there somewhere. Steve spotted his blonde hair instantly. Enemy soldiers moved within the storm, unaffected by it, their drugged eyes swirling with confusion. 

Bruce was sweating beside him, starting to pant but not giving up, maintaining the barrier strong. Steve wrapped an arm around his shoulders and squeezed protectively, and Natasha offered her support too. 

Something was glowing a soft gold amidst the unrelenting black. For a moment Steve thought it was Thor’s hair, and his heart jumped with fear – no!  _ No, Thor! Don’t go out there! _ But it wasn’t Thor. It was too close to the ground, but still moving, spreading out across the trampled snow and bodies littered across it. Spreading across the blood, unhindered by the shower of dark clouds pelting every inch of the battlefield. Light shone more persistently, eating its way outward in a growing circle, and lifting higher. Something moved under Steve’s foot, and when he looked down and shifted his boot, there was a sunflower there.

It struggled its way upward, climbing determinately. The bulb opened up, and the flower blossomed free, shining a warm yellow color and glowing faintly. More pushed their way through the cold ground, filling their little dome and continuing beyond it. Soon, the darkness wasn’t so complete anymore, just as he clouds stopped their attack. 

The entire field was covered in sunflowers, lighting up everything regardless of how well-knitted those clouds above were. Soldiers straightened, lowering their magic shield and looking around. Steve whirled, and Thor was there, rising from under  Tony’s shield and looking right at him. The king was already moving and pointing, reaching up to unfasten his cape and let it fall to the ground.

Steve started to jog as well, before he saw the black spot galloping across the sunflowers, kicking up petals. Shmidt was running for Asgard.

_ Faster than a horse. _ Steve was already running, building up the pace. He leapt over the heap of a fallen bear, skirted around some bodies, dodged a couple of swinging blades, and broke away from the battle. He feet pelted the sunflowers, but they were easier to run in than snow. All the snow was either flattened or melted by now, scorched by Tony’s fire and the onslaught of black magic. His legs gave more, and he pushed them beyond. He would have to be  _ faster _ if he was going to catch Shmidt before he reached the protective barrier. Whatever HYDRA’s leader was going to do, it couldn’t be good, and they couldn’t assume the magical shield would be enough. They didn’t truly know how powerful this man  was. Then again, Steve didn’t know how powerful he was either.

The battle was far behind in a matter of seconds, his legs and lungs working together to move him at a truly unbelievable pace. An  _ impossible _ pace. But his body could do it, his heart pumping the blood to allow his muscles to work. He could feel a limit approaching. He kept pushing, pushed past that limit. And beside him, Thor was sprinting too.

Sprinting wasn’t exactly the right word. Flying was maybe closer.

They were gaining on the horse, and Thor moved away to flank its opposite side. Steve threw his shield, and Shmidt turned as he rode, catching it. On the other side, Thor dropped and slid, throwing up flower petals and tangling himself with the horse’s legs. All three of them went down in a tangle of flailing limbs, and Steve snatched his shield as he ran by, leaping over the horse and sliding to a halt. He slid a long way, bending his knees and digging his fingers into the cold earth to slow himself. Panting, he separated where Thor and the horse ended, and Shmidt began, then threw himself into the fray, tackling the rising HYDRA leader to the ground.

This ended here, today, one way or another. 

He didn’t bother to wait to catch his breath. Thor was up too, tossing the horse aside and finding his way in the fray. Shmidt recovered just as fast, already wrestling Steve off of him and holding up a fist cloaked in dark fog. It wasn’t just magic flowing out of him that was black – his  _ skin _ was covered in inky lines. They wrapped all around his face, threatening to absorb every inch of white beneath. His hands and neck were completely black already, and his eyes shone emptily like ebony marbles. That fist whipped around and struck Steve in the jaw, flashing icy pain through his skull and down his neck. He actually staggered, but it was nothing compared to the ruthless blows he’d endured when he used to be smaller.

Pain was nothing. If Shmidt thought he could beat Steve by hurting him, well, he was going to learn that the hard way. Steve squared his jaw and held his ground, swiping the edge of his shield under his opponent’s jaw while Thor came in front behind.

Shmidt caught the shield in his hand and yanked it aside, leaving Steve’s body exposed, throwing his other hand behind him without looking and blasting black clouds from his palm. Thor raised his arms and made a shield, protecting his face while Steve kicked into Shmidt’s chest. He freed his shield with a yank and pushed it into the enemy’s face with an  echoing clang.

It didn’t do much more than stagger the enemy. It didn’t  fell him. 

Thor swung his arm and struck Shmidt from behind with the shield spell still on his arm, knocking him in the ear. The king drew his sword with the other hand and slashed out as he turned. Shmidt’s arm was swiping out too, ready to blast Thor with a spell. Steve kicked his hip to spin him into the king’s blade, and it sliced right through, severing the arm. Shmidt didn’t even get the chance to yell before Steve was kicking his leg from under him and bashing him in the chest with his shield. The man fell backward.

His arm wasn’t bleeding, oozing ink and steam instead. Shmidt rose, the ink dribbling more persistently, splattered on his lips. It gushed from his wound, curling in the air and molding into the shape of an arm. He smiled with stained teeth and flung his arm around, the liquid snapping out like a whip. Steve protected himself with his shield, but the ink was quickly aimed at his legs instead, wrapping around his ankle and pulling his leg from under him. He landed on his shoulders and rolled gracefully, pushing his hips over his head and leaping to his feet. Thor was already in front of him, throwing his hands outward and expanding his shield all the way to the ground. Around his feet, more flowers were blossoming – snap dragons.

The ink lashed out again, curling like snakes and trying to get over the shield. Thor grit his teeth and forced his barrier to expand. It wrapped around the pair of them faster than the ink could chase the edge, doming over the top.

Shmidt was melting, his body splitting into ropes of liquid blacks and striking the shield, all while bright emerald, peach, and  fuscia snap dragons erupted out of the ground  around them, growing up above the sunflowers. Thor was wavering, but holding strong, protecting them despite his obvious weariness. His eyes were glowing brightly blue as he drew up every ounce of power he could muster.

They wouldn’t be able to stay here forever. Thor knew that. He was already changing tactics before Steve could suggest anything, splitting his shield and curling it away from them, around the inky black to contain that instead. And the flowers grew taller, stems and leaves trying to contain the ink so that it could be trapped inside Thor’s shield bubble.

Thor was running out of steam. The blue had spread out from his irises and filled his entire eyes, shining so brightly they cut paths of electric light through the shadowy haze surrounding them. His legs were shaking, and his teeth were gritted in determination, heels sinking into the ground. Steve raised his shield and stood at his side, watching the magic close completely around the ink and seal it. Inside the dome burst a sunflower, the bulb pushing through the center of the writhing mass and the blossoming flower exploding the substance. It splattered the inside of the shield, then slowly drew back into the center. Shmidt was standing there among the flowers, his arm reattached. Thor growled and the flowers kept growing, their stems becoming vines and wrapping around Shmidt’s body.

Shmidt ripped himself free, leaking black from his nose and mouth. It dribbled from his eyes and his  ears, his skin completely consumed with it. He wasn’t human anymore, his skin bubbling with  power that was about to explode from his body at any second. And Thor couldn’t hold that barrier plus the one protecting the kingdom for much longer.  Asgard’s shield was already starting to wobble. Shmidt grabbed hold of a sunflower leaf and it melted in his hand, falling in a shower of dust to his feet. His stained teeth glowed white as he cracked an eerie grin, and nudged the shield with his spidery fingers. It burst, and Thor fell to his knee, shaking and struggling to bring it back.

It was too late. Shmidt, or whatever he had become, was free, and there was no sealing him away. Steve moved himself between his king and the enemy, raising his shield defiantly. He wasn’t scared, not even as Shmidt oozed and loped toward him, raising arms starting to crackle with black fire and bubble with clouds. The air smelled like burning skin, and it made him feel sick, but he couldn’t falter. He took a step forward, and Shmidt’s arm lashed out, his whole body staggering a bit as its integrity started to crumble. It melted from a body back into a rippling shape that was still sentient, but focused on one goal. The burning tendrils of ink screamed for him, and he knocked them away from him and Thor with his shield. The ink clung to the disk, wrapping around the metal and weighing it down. It oozed around the lip and spat at his arm, crawling up no matter how hard he tried to shake it off. He stumbled, and the black continued to wrap round and round his arm, up to his shoulder, across his chest, then all the way to his neck, his mouth. It pushed between his lips and plunged down his throat, clogging a cry, a scream, anything. It choked him, and he fell, the shield slipping off his arm as he clawed at his throat, trying to spit out the ink filling his respiratory system.

Steve rolled, scrambling at the ground, enable even to cough. All he could manage was a desperate gargle. He could feel the blackness leaking through his system, into his bloodstream and up behind his eyes, into his brain. It hurt. It _burned._

He could bear it. He could  _ bear _ it. Steve grit his teeth, his mouth tasting of blood and soot and something so foul there were no flavors to compare it to. It tasted like a thought, a word.

An order. Someone was in his head, whispering into his subconsciousness. Thor’s flowers were gone, and the clouds had swallowed him.

\--

He was floating in space, but this time there were no stars, no eyes. Just nothingness, and cold, the voice in his head.

_ “Give up,” _ it said.

_ “Not likely,” _ Steve growled, not with his mouth but his heart. Fair enough, not everyone knew him that well. Spend enough time in his head though, and this voice would learn.

The voice tried harder, screamed louder. Steve stood his ground calmly, firmly. He was standing, a bit suddenly, but this was not a new experience. Not entirely. It didn’t surprise him.  _ “You really think you’re the first?” _

Another man stood across from him, lifting out of the black. Ink dripped off him like water, and Shmidt emerged as he had been, presumably before his spells had infected him. Pale skin, cruel eyes. “Open your eyes, boy, and see the world around you. I can destroy  entire cities. I can certainly destroy you.”

He could try.

While they had been almost matched in strength and speed and durability in body, the odds weren’t so even in here. Steve was much, much faster. Shmidt attacked with confidence and the intention of being merciless, but his strike just looked pathetic in comparison to Steve’s swift block. The soldier lifted his other arm, and his punch was too fast for Shmidt to deal with, catching him in the face and throwing him back. Steve approached slowly, watching Shmidt stagger to his feet, gushing red blood from his nose but still ready to attack again. He was growling with frustration, faltering. Steve did not falter.

He knew what he was doing. He knew he could win. Shmidt was smaller than him, powerless. There was no magic here in their minds, or their souls, or whatever parts of them were connected in this new realm. The second attack he blocked as well, retaliating with his own that was far more powerful, far more effective. Shmidt fell again, bleeding and struggling to stay upright. There was a bright light opening up behind him, a split in all this black shining blue and crackling. Thunder rattled distantly. Steve walked forward, and drove a solid kick into Shmidt’s chest, throwing him back into the blue. In a burst of stardust and a short scream, the man was gone.  _ Not worthy. _

The whispers were gone. It was just him in his head.

Sound bled back to his ears, and when he opened his eyes, light blinded him – a sunflower. A bright, healthy sunflower, swaying in a gentle breeze. Everything was still quite dim, lit only by the enchanted light of Thor’s flowers, but no longer the blue glow of  Asgard’s shield.

The shield was down. Steve coughed and rolled, spluttering in his panic. His mouth tasted horrible. He pushed himself up on one arm and stared.  Asgard was left exposed. A soft breeze was rippling the grass, warm and peaceful. The sounds of battle were still distant, but persistent. They weren’t done yet.

Thor was. Steve turned and spotted him lying on his back in the flowers. He scrambled to his feet, barely able to walk for fear of what he would find. He fell, gathering the king’s head into his lap. “Thor,” he coughed. “Thor, please...” there was a pulse. Thor was breathing, a bit pale, though that might have just been the poor lighting. His chest was heaving under his armor, his eyes closed and framed in grey. Steve folded his legs and drew the king up a bit further, stroking his hair, searching for any sign that he’d been injured, but there were no glaring injuries, no bloody stains. 

Thor was asleep, the flowers around him a bit larger, a bit brighter. There was a snap dragon in pure white grown straight into his hand, the leaves woven like fingers through his, and the flower nestled in his palm. 

Something moved in his peripheral. Steve looked down and saw it, that familiar powder blue color. A cornflower plant pushing up by his leg, the leaves settling on his knee and the flower rising all the way to eye level. Steve sniffed and wiped his eyes, staring at it as the small petals gently spiraled outward. A stronger wind pushed into his back, rushing toward the battle through the flowers, and across the sky. It ruffled the petals and raked away the dark clouds, daylight blue melting through. Steve squinted in the new light, and Thor moved in his lap. He looked down into a pair of weary blue eyes, and at a  warm pink smile. 

“Look,” Steve pointed, and Thor looked, pushing a shaking arm under himself. Steve helped him sit, and they watched the bright light rush out. Perhaps the darkness in the distance shimmered with stars, but it was soon hidden in daylight.

Something swept by his shoulder, and when he looked  up he could just make out the faint shape of a person outlined in cerulean. They swept off toward the battle after the breeze, followed by another, and another. Soon, the fields were swarming with spirits, all of them converging on the fight now bathed in an afternoon sun.

“Come on,” Steve urged, forgetting his shield discarded a few feet away, instead pulling Thor’s arm across his shoulders and pulling the king to his feet. “Are you hurt?”

Thor leaned on him and shook his head. “No,” he quickly replied, his voice a bit raspy. “No. Are you?”

Miraculously, no. A bit scraped and cut, yes, but not seriously. “I’m alright,” Steve promised, looking around to make absolutely certain Shmidt wasn’t there: he wasn’t. He set his jaw and wrapped his arm around Thor’s waist, starting to lead them across the vast expanse of field they’d run across. It was a long, long way from the battle, longer than he’d realized. Thor limped along beside him, too tired to walk by himself, staring straight ahead at the battlefield.

The last shadow was eaten up, and the gathering spirits converged on the field. Steve could already see from here, just barely, that HYDRA’s men were falling. 

“Mjolnir,” Thor whispered, stopping in his tracks. He glanced over his shoulder at  Asgard , still safe. Just as they’d left it. He sighed with relief and sagged a bit heavier into Steve’s support.

There were whispers in the air, and neither of them could hear what they were saying, but they knew. They just knew. Thor coughed a bit, Steve held him tighter, and they both watched as one by one, HYDRA’s men dropped to the ground. They started to walk again, as quickly as Thor could manage to get his legs to move, and the closer they got the better they could see that Mjolnir really had come to them to purge away the evil.

To claim back what had been stolen.

Those HYDRA soldiers were toppling in bursts of blue scattered with stars, falling right out of the grip of Asgardian warriors, leaving their allies to stand with confusion. One final whisper, one final burst of light, and the war was over.

HYDRA was gone, or at least as many as had been in this field.

Thor choked a laugh, and he was crying when Steve looked over. “It is done,” he rasped. “It’s done, Steve.”

The brunt of it, at least. There were still HYDRA bases out there, full of other soldiers and prisoners. But  Asgard was safe.  _ They _ were safe. Natasha was running across the fields toward them. Clint and Tony and Bruce were all on her heels, Bruce supported between them. They were all bloody and dirty and breathless, but smiling. They didn’t entirely understand what had happened, but it didn’t matter. Thor found a bit more strength to quicken his pace to meet them. The rest of the soldiers were gathering their wounded friends and leading them to the horses, the whole army slowly coming over to share in the comradery.

All six of them clustered together, Thor letting go so he could wrap Natasha in a hug, looking her over before leaning into her embrace with relief. Steve greeted his other friends with a calm smile, glancing down at Bruce’s stabbed leg. He would be alright. Steve hugged his friend tightly, opening his arms for the other two, and all four of them brought Thor and Natasha into the cluster.

They all looked out across the field covered in gently swaying flowers, at  Asgard still peacefully settled under its usual blanket of winter snow, waiting for them to come home. Steve pulled Thor’s arm back across his shoulders, but the king was turning them together, draping his other arm around the soldier’s neck and sliding up close. “Steve?” he said quietly, smiling brightly.

“Yeah?” everything was very quiet. Everyone was watching.

Thor got to his  knee, a bit shaky but holding together. He took Steve’s left hand in his and peered up with ocean blue eyes flecked with gold from the sunflowers reflecting in them. He swallowed. “Steve... Will you marry me?”

Why did the question take him by surprise? They’d already come to that agreement. It still made his heart flutter, though, and he actually stammered, quivering a bit. The crowd quivered with him, watching in silence. Steve stared at the ring already on his left hand, then back up to Thor’s waiting stare. “Yes,” he murmured. He opened his mouth to speak a bit clearer, with more confidence. He was  _ confident _ he wanted this. “Yes. Yes, Thor.”

The soldiers erupted. Steve pulled Thor standing, and the king fell forward into his embrace and kissed him firmly. Everyone cheered, their friends clustered close again, and they simply shared in this moment for a few seconds more.

This moment was going to carry with them for a long, long time. Especially since now, they had a wedding to plan. Never mind the Winter solstice. This was going to be so much better.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well everyone, here we go! The last chapter. Thank you so much for enjoying this journey with me! I will hvae more notes at the end, so please take a look at those.  
> Thank you!

Asgard knew how to throw a party. The people were bubbling with uncapped joy, more than happy to make arrangements while their king – kings, now – rested. 

For the first time in his life, Steve felt tired simply because he’d worked hard, and not at all because his body was giving out on him. It was a wonderous sensation, satisfying and worth being proud of. 

But he wasn’t as tired as Thor. In fact, after a few hours of sleep, he felt normal. Well, normal for this new body. That was good, because after using so much magic and fighting so long and hard against such overwhelmingly dark magic, Thor was taxed. The two of them hardly left their bed, quite content to rest in each other’s arms and doze away the hours. Thor spent a lot of time sleeping, replenishing the energy he’d expended without fear that there were better things to be doing. He’d tried to protest, that they should be planning to take down the remaining HYDRA bases, or that he should at least help plan this wedding, but he hadn’t put up a fight when Steve had hushed him. 

For a few days at least, they could rest. Their friends were looking after everything, while getting the rest they needed too. Steve just had to trust them, let them look after everything while he just enjoyed being alive and free. Natasha had already come to check on him and make sure that he was resting. 

He was. Even while awake, and not tangled up in Thor’s arms, he sat up against the pillows to draw while the king slept beside him. Thor was so beautiful when he slept, his hair splayed about his head like a crown, shining in a bright sun that was starting to get warmer. His thick eyelashes rested gently on his cheeks, and he breathed deeply through slightly-parted lips. He looked peaceful. And Steve could draw it to its entirety. 

His hands were perfectly steady. All those subtle lines and tiny details he couldn’t manage before, he was able to do again. Any sign of his tremor was gone. He could sit shirtless, his bare back pressed into the pillows, and not feel uncomfortable. Thor liked to rub his hands up and down the smooth skin, drawing smooth lines across all of it, and Steve liked it very much as well. He liked the touch, gentle as it had always been, but a bit more confident now that it didn’t have to dance around tender burns. 

Everything felt... normal. Steady. The war was barely over, but he could still see himself for many years to come cuddling in this same bed with the man he’d come to love. 

It didn’t really set in that he was a king until Thor was up and about again, going straight to Tony to have him make a second ring, and Steve his own crown. 

Tony had made him a new shield harness, too. It strapped to his back, and the disk could snap to it, which meant he didn’t have to keep adjusting the grips. It was pretty genius. Steve looked forward to fighting in the many battles to come. HYDRA had yet to be completely erased, and he was going to be at the head of that charge. 

Two weeks after the battle in the flower fields, and they were all in the hall, dressed in their nicest clothes. Their friends, the entire army, the rest of the court. And Thor was wearing an identical ring on his left hand, smiling, dressed in dark reds with gold accents, his cape cascading off his shoulders and some hair pulled back from his face. It was woven in little braids at his temples. 

Bruce had just officiated, and Steve was ready to open his mouth and lean forward, but Thor was flicking his hand and producing a small but perfect sunflower from his palm. Whether he’d had it up his sleeve, or had just summoned it from his bare hand was impossible to tell. He was grinning proudly, tucking it gently behind Steve’s ear. He deliberated over it, brushing his bangs with his knuckles and sliding the stem into place. He was getting _really_ good at his flower spell. Everything else was quite a bit harder, and he would likely never be the magician that Bruce and Tony were, probably not even as good as some of his soldiers who were learning now, but Steve could confidently say that nobody would master those flowers like he had. 

That was good enough for Thor. It was a shred of his mother to hang on to, something of hers to take with him through his life. A symbol of everything he had overcome, of the man he had blossomed into even before Steve’s eyes. 

Thor had really stepped into his title. And Steve was so, so proud. On top of that, he got to stand up here beside him, and be part of this role. He had a place here in Asgard, and it was larger than he could have ever asked for. Maybe he was a little scared, but he still had his friends to support him, still had the entire army filling the hall with cheers as he and Thor both moved together at the same time and kissed. Everyone was watching. That was fine. They’d never been able to hide much to begin with anyway, so why try? Steve found no shame in pulling Thor a bit tighter against him, and kissing a bit harder. He was happy, and nothing was going to stop him from enjoying this. 

Nothing was going to stop him from being happy, not even that his mother and Bucky weren’t here to share this with him. 

His friends were. He could see it in their postures and stares that they were relieved. Steve had only known them in war, and now that the major threat had passed, he could see that tensions had been released. So could be said for everyone. The soldiers, the whole court, and all the citizens were a lot more relaxed, and the air was lighter. The celebrations spread out all through the town, through the melting snow. People were gathered in the streets, celebrating heartily. They greeted their kings with shouts, passing along gifts and huge grins as the two men walked out of the castle and into the streets. 

The party flooded out of the hall, filling all of Asgard. Everywhere they turned, people were eating and drinking and laughing. The court flooded from the castle to mingle and share in the festivities. Steve nervously adjusted the crown on his head and wrapped his hand around Thor’s, smiling and dusted with pink. They were _both_ a bit flushed. 

But Thor was still Thor, so kind and ready to give his people his time. In turn, his people gave back their love and loyalty. They gave it to Steve, too, not hesitant at all to welcome him into their kingdom, welcome him as their _king._ As far they cared, he had already proven himself by fighting for them, and his worthiness by his obvious transformation. There was no mistaking that the small blonde who used to mingle in the streets, or ride off with the other soldiers on occasion was this same man on Thor’s arm. Some of them had seen him through the barrier fighting Shmidt, giving everything he had to protect their kingdom and wash away the evil. 

Asgard was covered in flowers, Thor trademark sunflowers woven in amidst snap dragons. They grew out of every patch of exposed dirt within Asgard’s walls, and still covered the whole field stretching beyond. 

“Oh! I have your gift ready,” Steve remembered suddenly, as they were walking back through the city toward the castle, the festivities continuing around them. It didn’t show signs of stopping, even as the sun fell. Everyone put on their warmer clothes and carried on, and the air was warmed by bodies all moving amongst each other with excitement. 

“My gift...?” Thor cocked his head with confusion. 

Steve smiled and nodded, squeezing Thor’s hand and taking the lead. They walked a bit faster once they were free of the crowds, hurrying up the steps and into the corridors. What felt like a leisurely jog was probably no slower than a run, and they reached the painting room in no time, Thor following curiously, excited as they walked inside. He was staring from painting to painting as Steve let go and went to the back wall to move some other supplies aside. 

This past week, he’d managed to finish the painting he’d started before he’d fallen seriously ill. He’d touched up some of the colors, and completed all the fine details he’d struggled with before. He’d added subtle and precise strokes in the postures of the animals, in the posture of Thor by the riverside. He’d refined the textures, added finer shines to the eyes, and painted in those thin yellow outlines on leaves touched by the sun piercing through. He’d added a silver band to Thor’s finger. And he’d added flowers all across the ground, the same flowers still cloaking the fields they’d battled on. 

Steve set the painting on the easel and turned it to face the king. He looked up, and Thor was staring at it as he always stared at Steve’s paintings: with utter reverence. It made Steve blush, but he stood there and watched, undeniably proud of his work. 

“I love it,” Thor breathed, walking closer, his eyes flicking all around the painting, gathering every minute detail. He soaked in the whole image, giving himself time to appreciate it. “How long have you been working on this?” 

“A while,” Steve admitted bashfully. “I wanted to give it to you earlier, but, you know...” _I was dying._ He rubbed the fingers on his right hand. “I think it turned out better anyway.” 

Thor wouldn’t have cared either way, but Steve could see he was admiring each detail. “It’s going in the hall,” he declared breathlessly, looking up. His eyes were shimmering, and he was sliding around the painting, opening his arms to draw Steve into a hug. “I haven’t gotten you anything...” 

Steve chuckled, resting his head on Thor’s shoulder contentedly. “Not true,” he contested quietly. “What about this? Surely this counts.” And he gave the king a tight squeeze to demonstrate his new strength. 

“That was not my gift to give,” Thor smiled, drawing back so he could establish eye contact. He draped his arms around Steve’s neck, coming in close. “But I am pleased to have brought you there. Perhaps we could celebrate.” His voice dropped to a suggestive whisper, bristled tickling Steve’s ear as the king brought his lips to it and kissed. 

Steve shivered, tipping his head sideways as Thor tugged on the lobe with his teeth, moving down and sucking a path down Steve’s neck, steadily growing rougher. That was going to leave a mark, even if it only lasted mere hours. 

“Perhaps I could think of something to give you...” Thor rasped, his hands searching for the buckles of Steve’s ceremonial armor. 

“I hope not just for tonight,” Steve smirked, reaching round to grab Thor’s hand and pull it away, but leaning toward the door. 

“I have yet to explore you quite as thoroughly as I hoped to,” Thor was following readily, starting to take control again. Steve didn’t mind submitting either, even if he was capable of contending with the king’s strength. He didn’t mind when Thor handled him physically. Thor had always handled him with admiration and care, and most importantly, respect. 

Thor was going to be handling him with respect tonight. While all of Asgard continued to party in the streets under a moon and billions of stars, Thor took him to bed. The hallways outside were empty, so the king didn’t hold back, and neither did Steve. They weren’t going to disturb anyone if they made a bit of noise. 

It was a long, long night. 

\-- 

_One year later._

Steve jumped, flipping his legs over his head and landing in frost-dusted grass, completing a perfect backflip. Natasha was smart, and fast, and she could anticipate his movements almost as quickly as he could execute them. She had started moving to where he would be before he’d finished the jump, and her leg collided with his ankle the second his weight settled. She ripped his leg forward, and he fell back, too close to the ground to flip himself back up by his hips. 

Natasha was weaving her lithe body through his, tangling his leg in hers and taking hold of his arm. He started to move, but she used his attempt to stand against him and rolled with him, twisting his arm the other way and pinning it behind his back. 

“Give up yet, Your Highness?” 

No, no he wouldn’t. Steve shoved his other arm under himself and slammed his shoulders into her chest, loosening her grip on his wrist. He pulled his arm free and flipped onto his back, pushing his heels into her hips and throwing her over his head. She went flying, twisting like a cat and rolling back to her feet. Steve sprang up and shook out his arm. She would tire long before he did, but she was still the better fighter, regardless of how much stronger he was than her. 

She was teaching him how to use his body, even though it was big now, and he didn’t have to worry about every opponent being stronger and bigger than he was. She was making him efficient, rapid, teaching him how to defend against any weapon with just his body. His instincts had been honed by the gift, but Natasha sharpened them even more, taught him something new with every lesson. There was always more to learn. 

Besides, they both enjoyed it. Steve would never get tired of feeling so capable, and Natasha liked the challenge. Together, they could appreciate each other strengths, and challenge their weaknesses. Thor and Clint, too, who joined in as well. 

Natasha was back with another strike, using her much smaller size to slip between his defenses. She kicked his knee and punched under his chin, which was an unusual move for her, but it worked. Steve stumbled back, surprised though it didn’t hurt much. With him, she didn’t have to hold back. Him _or_ Thor. Bruises healed in hours, perhaps a day if they were particularly nasty. 

Steve quickly found his balance and turned his hips, catching Natasha in the stomach with his boot before she could reach him. He shoved her back and she fell with a thud. He was on her, seizing this opportunity to lunge forward and roll her up in his big body. She struggled, trying to grab his fingers and twist them, but he caught her hand and pinned her wrist into her chest with the other. There was no way she could overpower him – he had her trapped. He’d won. 

“Okay, okay,” she stopped struggling. He let go, rolling them both over and setting her on her feet. She brushed herself off and looked up at him proudly. “Nice work, Rogers. I knew you’d learn eventually.” 

“When do we get to watch you and Thor duke it out so we can find out who’s the strongest warrior in Asgard?” Clint asked from the sidelines, leaned up against a tree, hands behind his head. 

Steve chuckled and picked up his jacket, draping it over his shoulder. 

“I mean, it is your anniversary tomorrow,” Natasha suggested. “That could be the entertainment.” 

“You want us to be the entertainment for our own anniversary,” Steve raised an eyebrow. 

“Kings are meant to serve their people, right?” Clint stood up to join them, sidling up to Steve’s other flank and walking with them back across the training grounds, past the other soldiers, and up to the castle. 

“Well, as king I can do what I like,” Steve retorted. 

“Careful, Barton, or you might find yourself on laundry duty the morning after,” Natasha smirked across at the archer, who made a face. 

“Gross!” 

Steve blushed. Natasha laughed at him and patting him on the back. 

They walked up the steps basked in midday sun, and into the halls. Sunlight streamed through the windows and archways. Servants and soldiers bustled by, going about their day. The trio walked by the paintings, by Thor’s lineage all the way to Frigga’s portrait, and Thor’s commemoration of his battle against the frost giants. Beyond that, the paintings were different, the focus shifted to the whole rather than a single man fighting for a trinket against an army, alone. 

Thor hadn’t wanted a painting of this battle, not one like the others before it, at least. Steve hadn’t wanted one either. Instead, they’d had something else done, the landscape of the battlefield covered in sunflowers pushing away the darkness, and all of Asgard’s army fighting back HYDRA as one. No man was at the center of it, not even Asgard’s two kings. And at the bottom were painted the names of those they’d lost. It wasn’t many in terms of numbers, but Thor had wanted it. He’d wanted their lives to be remembered. Thor had asked for the names of all the other soldiers who had died leading up to the battle, too. Steve had happily added them. 

They’d commissioned the royal painters to do the portraits, though. Steve didn’t want to paint his own, and Thor had agreed to have his done if Steve did. So they’d sat down together, and the artist had painted them together, capturing Thor’s soft smile just as she had Frigga’s. Once the base colors were down, Steve had watched her work, learning from her expert strokes so he could improve his own work. She was happy to teach him, to show him where he could learn and critique his paintings. 

While Steve painted, Thor learned to play his mandola. The teacher he’d found recognized his skill with improvisation, and had tailored his lessons accordingly. Thor had learned a lot in a short space of time. Playing the instrument made him so happy, and he still took it to the graveyard to play. Steve would often join him, but nowadays the visits were joyful, celebrating what they had and remembering joyous memories instead of suffering under the burden of losses that would never be undone. The ritual became a happy one. 

Thor liked to decorate their family’s gravestones with flowers. He’d mastered the spell now, could summon any number of plants and flowers with a flick of his hand. 

He was with Bruce in the infirmary now, helping restock the doctor’s supplies. The trio walked into the infirmary to see Thor sat on the edge of a bed, a pot of dirt between his legs and book on the table beside him. Bruce sat in a chair across from him, leafing through the pages until he found something he needed. Thor scrutinized the page as he gathered a handful of dirt, paying close attention to the details so he could grow the right plant. A bold shoot climbed out of his palm, blossoming into lemon balm. Into a jar it went, and Bruce looked for his next plant. 

“Steve!” Thor looked up, a big grin on his face. He put down the pot and stood up, brushing dirt off his hands and coming over. “My friends!” 

“Hey,” Steve smiled back, giving a brief kiss of greeting. “How goes it?” 

“Very well,” Thor took his hand and led him over to the bed to point proudly at the array of jars he’d filled. 

“We’ve been at it all morning,” Bruce looked up, pushing his glasses up his nose. “We’re still building up to some of the harder plants. Why don’t you go get something to eat, Thor? We’ll try those after lunch.” 

Thor nodded in agreement. “Yes. Let’s do that.” He looked so encouraged, a bounce in his step and his smile brighter than usual. He was beaming with his whole demeanor. Steve chuckled at his expression. 

Natasha was smirking at them, leaning on the doorframe, Clint watching beside her. She straightened. “Come on. Food time.” 

Steve had to agree, he was pretty hungry. This body could really pack it away, but as Thor had already reassured him plenty of times, Asgard was a land of abundance. It had more than enough resources to accommodate their kings, the current citizens, and all the prisoners they’d rescued this past year. The last HYDRA base had fallen mid-Winter, and the city walls were currently being expanded. When there was no-one to fight, the army and their kings were out in the city helping with construction. Having two people strong enough to lift massive weights, and who could work long days without tiring came as a huge advantage. Tony and Bruce were getting creative with their spells, too, clearing snow, and preparing and gathering building supplies. 

Both men were exceptional magicians. With each new HYDRA base they sought out across the land, Tony had a new spell to try, and Bruce had come a bit further with his study of healing magic when they brought back their injured soldiers and prisoners. 

They’d found a total of twenty prisoners who had been branded with the HYDRA symbol. Fifteen were already dead, their bodies left to rot in their cells, or found still chained to the rack. The remaining five had been rushed back to Asgard, but regardless how much magic and medicine had been applied, no matter how hard Bruce tried to repair the damage with every spell he knew, or how many plants Thor grew in his palms to treat the infections and pain, their patients had all died. 

The trauma had simply been too great, HYDRA’s methods too effective. 

Those had been solemn evenings, after burying the bodies in the graveyard under the tulips. Thor had grown peonies, a symbol of nobility, over their graves. Then he’d wrapped his hand around Steve’s and taken him off to bed, holding him protectively. Steve had let himself be held, needed the security of Thor’s arms to remind him that those tortures were over. He’d cried, without knowing entirely why, and Thor had rubbed away the ghost ache in his back with soft, loving hands, reminding with touch that it was smooth. Walking into those rooms in HYDRA’s remaining bases hadn’t been easy. Seeing what his back had looked like had been even tougher, but he’d held himself together until he was home, until he was alone with Thor. 

They hadn’t addressed the obvious, that Steve should, by all odds, be dead. Of all the branded victims they’d rescued, none had been as small and physically weak as Steve. Maybe HYDRA had stepped up their game, had gotten better at their torture methods, had given their victims poisons before-hand, or strained them in other ways. Whatever way, though, Steve knew he was beyond lucky. 

It was a miracle, one he couldn’t possibly explain. 

Maybe he’d just had something to hang on to. Perhaps Bucky alone had saved him, beyond carrying him to safety and giving him the chance to get help. Bucky had held his spirit in his body. Or, maybe fate was real, and had kept him in the living world long enough to fulfill a purpose greater than himself. Greater than Asgard alone, even. 

Thor swung their arms a little as they walked, their fingers tightly laced. It was easy to forget that both of them were the kings of Asgards. Thor didn’t act like it, and Steve still couldn’t comprehend it. It still felt odd to wear the crown Thor had had made for him on the rare occasion they got dressed up, but he was proud of it, proud to stand wherever Thor stood. 

Everyone gathered in the infirmary to eat, Tony coming from his workshop to join them. They sat around on chairs and beds while the inventor recounted his experiments with new spells. His next project was to make his armor resistant to magic, to protect the soldiers if they ever came across black magic again. Steve’s shield was going to be the first to get the upgrade, once he figured it out. All of Shmidt’s texts had been burned, but there was more evil out there. Asgard was going to be ready no matter what. 

For now though, they were ready for Spring, and the anniversary of their kings which was to be held tomorrow. Spirits were high. They’d been high for a year, and showed no signs of stopping. 

Asgard was a generous nation, the generosity of their king evident in the way the citizens behaved. They had welcomed the prisoners into their land, had helped care for them and integrate them back into normal life. They’d showered them with kindness, had welcomed those less seriously wounded into their homes and looked after them. They’d shared their beds, their food, their time, and Asgard had swelled. The people were generous toward their kings, too, and despite Thor’s insistence that their anniversary be a quieter celebration, his people wouldn’t have it. Come the next day, there was no shortage of gifts. Asgard showered their rulers with every variety of gifts, with food and clothing and crafts of all kinds. So much, that neither of them knew what to do with it all. 

When they set out to spend some time alone in the evening, there was plenty to make their dinner picnic with. Beautiful pies dusted with sugar, plump winter apples, canned cherries, jars of pickled cucumbers, and bottles of aged wine. 

“Perhaps we should have eloped,” Thor chuckled as they picked that they wanted to bring and left their friends to eat the rest. 

Steve laughed. He wouldn’t have minded, though he’d known the land had needed that pact to seal the end of the war. Besides, Thor had wanted to scream his love to anyone who would listen. It would have been tough easing the kingdom into their relationship, not knowing how they would respond. So far, nobody minded at all, clearly. 

“You don’t want to wear it?” Thor picked Steve’s crown off the bedside table where he’d placed it as soon as they’d returned from the celebrations. 

“What? For a walk?” Steve raised an eyebrow. “You know the rules. If I have to wear mine, you have to wear yours. Besides, it doesn’t really go with this outfit.” He gestured half-jokingly at his brown pants and white shirt he’d just changed into. 

“I beg to differ,” Thor set it back on his head and admired him. 

“No-one to see us out there,” Steve smiled. “Doesn’t matter.” 

“I will be there to see you,” Thor scoffed. “Do I not count?” 

“You count the most,” Steve chuckled. “That’s why I don’t need to wear it. It’ll come off pretty much right away anyway. It wouldn’t stay on... How am I supposed to lean over you? It’d fall right off and hit you in the face.” 

“Ever the strategist,” Thor smiled. “Then I suppose I don’t have to wear mine either.” 

“Come on,” Steve folded up a blanket and draped it over his arm, “let’s go. I’m hungry.” 

“Very well, Your Highness,” Thor was on his heals, their food in a basket, grabbing Steve’s hand. 

They walked into the fields and waded through the flowers glowing under a setting sun. The breeze was cool, but the sun was warm, and there were just enough clouds that it was warm enough with just their jackets. They would be warming up soon enough anyway. Out here, there was no-one to see them, no-one to hear. They would be truly alone, safely hidden among the sunflowers, and far enough from the castle that nobody would be able to see them anyway. 

“What would His Highness like first?” Thor spread out the blankets and gestured invitingly. “A drink, perhaps?” 

_Cheeky,_ Steve smirked and sat on the blankets. “I’m hungry. Hurry it up. That was a long walk.” 

“So demanding,” Thor sat down beside him, already flushed with arousal. “I could have your head for that.” 

“I get the feeling you’ll be having it very soon,” Steve grinned slyly back. 

“I can make you suffer, you know,” Thor slid a bit closer, licking his lips. “Maybe someday I will make you believe that.” 

“You’ve been telling me that for ages,” Steve rolled his eyes playfully. “And I didn’t believe it the first time. Are we gonna eat? The only suffering you’re causing is by making me wait.” 

Thor laughed and turned, opening their basket and setting out some plates and cups. When he turned back, his hands were cupped together. He pulled them apart, and there was a rose laid in his palms, soft petals lush and scarlet. Thor smiled at him and gently pushed it into his hand. “These are supposed to be romantic,” he offered quietly, looking up for approval. “Apparently. According to Tony.” 

Steve smiled back, setting the rose aside and taking Thor’s face in his hands. He rubbed the king’s lips with his thumb, then drew them closer and kissed him. Birds flew overhead, migrating back now that everything was warming up. They chirped and chased each other in the trees far, far away, and the breeze rustled the tall flowers guarding them. Steve pulled them apart, sucking Thor’s bottom lip. “I think I prefer your sunflowers,” he whispered. 

They enjoyed the last rays of sunlight eating delicious food, and when it was all gone, they wasted no time getting down the business. Neither of them were cold, even as clothes came off. They were pressed flush against each other, leaving no room for the last cold fingers of Winter to crawl in. They exhausted each other, until both of them were too taxed to continue, thoroughly satisfied. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! As always, thank you _so much_ for your support with this story. I loved reading your comments, your theories, and all your feedback on it. I have a few parting words:
> 
> 1\. More stories to come! I've got three idea, and I'm juggling which one to start next. I've got two shorter thundershield ideas, one that takes a similar path to Sick Day, but I want to tackle some different themes, and another that might serve as a sequel to Sick Day, where the favor is returned, set post Civil War. I've also got an idea for another longer tale, and I think it will work best with Stony for the plot. That one will be a no-powers AU, probably more like a spy thriller, with war-vet Steve and police investigator Tony, set in a small town in Canada.
> 
> 2\. If you have ideas, or things you want to read, I am always open to hearing them! I keep a list. Of course, ideas include themes/tags/characters, so if there are certain things you want to see in that regard, do let me know!
> 
> 3\. I wanted to do way more artwork for this, but alas school got me busy. I will be doing some more and adding a final drawing chapter as soon as I can, so keep your eye open for that. If you like my artwork, check out my [tumblr](https://stormyandrescuer.tumblr.com/), where I post lots more thundershield art, some of which doesn't end up in my stories.
> 
> *4.* With specific regard to this story, I would love to know your overall thoughts. On really anything: characterization, chapter breakdown, themes, symbolism, plot, pace, anything! I try to improve upon each story, and any feedback you can give you be much appreciated, even if it's something you didn't prefer! It helps me make it better in the next story. I love to know what stands out to people, even some of the little details. It's interesting to see what different people pick up on, and I can gauge if the things I wanted to stand out did or not. 
> 
> Thank you again, and again, and I hope to see you in the next story! Bless xoxo


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Finally got some of that art done that I wanted! I may do more for this, and will of course always be posting thundershield art on my [tumblr](https://stormyandrescuer.tumblr.com)
> 
> Hope you enjoy! As requested, the bathtub scene. *warning* nothing graphic, but there is a bit of nakey. I can confirm those two blonde morons are living their best life (and commissioning Tony to make them a bigger bath).


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